Of Earth and Water
by Kaye Thorn
Summary: From the eve of doom to the glimmer of a new beginning, time immemorial claims an unwitting farm girl...and the discovery of life and hearts begins...if she can survive it. 07.24.09: Final chapter!
1. Prologue & Ch 1: Autumn Fields

Prologue

All around her stood tall and lissome trees with high spread branches. The quiet rustle of leaves filled the air, stirred by a cool wind that began to sweep near. The flowing air sent a chill through her still damp clothes, the fabric clinging to her skin and of no protection. She folded her arms to her chest for a little warmth and slowly continued to walk along. The sun slanted through the canopy overhead and cast her shadow upon the ground, which she noticed out of the corner of her eye. It momentarily startled her, but even as she realized what it was, it added to her uneasiness and confusion.

Her nerves were on the utmost edge, her footsteps halted and awkward as the throbbing and pain increased in the marks upon her legs and head. Her still cold skin suddenly tingled and in anxiety she completely turned to look behind her. Nothing was there, and she sighed a bit in relief. She began to take note that her shadow was still upon her side, when unexpectedly another shadow fell across it. Instantly she felt a sharp metal point pressed to her back.

"Do not move."

* * *

**"The path of sorrow, and that path alone,  
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." **

**-William Cowper**

**

* * *

**

Chapter One: Autumn Fields 

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean._  
_Tears from the depth of some divine despair  
Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,  
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,  
And thinking of the days that are no more."  
(-Alfred Tennyson Tennyson)

**-Missouri: July 10th **

Many years had seasoned the land; the weariness of generations had veiled it in stillness. The occasional wind dared to ruffle the fading forest leaves or some shutter of the house that stood there. These sounds would be single echoes through the silent air, only a slight disturbance to this farm that was steadfast in time and tradition. The quaint farmhouse and broad stable were the only buildings that bore signs of usage on Creek Halls Farm. Once fertile patches of crops were overgrown, only the well tended pastures held green life.

Off in the distance of one field the faint rhythm of hooves could be heard daily. On this day beneath the dimming summer sun, the sound of voices was heard upon the air as well. In one of the green fields, a sorrel mare stood complacently watching two women talk in front of her.

"I can reassure you again, Mrs. Whit, that Morna is an agile but gentle horse, even at her age," said Eva Lynch, the younger woman of the two. She inwardly restrained a sigh as she pat the horse on the neck and tucked a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. The older woman's critical gaze turned from the horse and locked onto her, a distant and judging glint in her eyes. Eva smiled slowly and encouragingly as her anxiety grew, trying hard not to fidget even though she was twenty three years old. Mrs. Whit suddenly nodded her head and startled her.

"Okay I'll take her. I'll send someone over for her in an hour."

After a quick exchange of words and money, Eva was left alone. She could not help but just stand there, staring at the mare.

"Well girl, you're going to a new home," she said softly.

The horse only gave her a brief glance before leaning down and beginning to chomp down the green grass. Eva folded her arms and lifted her head to the sky in thought, but halted upon seeing the dark clouds that had moved in and started to block the sun.

She refocused on the mare and muttered, "I better get you inside, Uncle John would kill me if you got sick." Picking up the lead line from the ground, she clipped it on the horse's halter, using a gentle tug to get her moving. They went through the gate and up a gravel littered path into the stable. Boot and hoof rung upon the floor and echoed throughout as they passed by many deserted stalls. Upon reaching a plaque with the name "Morna", she put the mare in and went over to the next pair of compartments.

She stuck her head in over the door and was greeted with the sight of a Quarter Horse gelding who stood bent over his water. While running her eyes over his blood bay coat, she reached into her pocket and held out a carrot.

"Here Blitz, I have a treat for you."

He raised his head, but then turned around completely without making a move toward the proffered food.

"Not hungry? Or just mad at me since I'm taking Morna away?" she asked sarcastically. Blitz remained motionless and in exasperation she left the carrot upon the door sill, waving her hand in the air. "You dork."

As she passed the next stall, she was met by a welcoming whinny and a piebald Welsh pony stuck his head out to her.

"Hey Basil," she said dejectedly, and briefly patted his nose before continuing to walk off.

Ordinarily, she would have stopped for a few minutes to pat and chatter to her old pony, who she had outgrown seven years ago. He had been replaced by Blitz, a then strapping three year old colt, but continued to be a friend and pet to Eva even as she got older. She felt like she had enough of the horses for the day. Having to sell the old mare had been hard. Even though it was her Uncle's horse; she was attached to Morna.

She soon reached the house, which exuded cheer from its white clapboards gleaming in the sun, to the bright beds of petunias that grew around the porch and walkway. The screen door slammed itself shut as she came in and entered the living room. Noticing the blinking light on the answering machine, she went to the table and hit the play button.

Immediately a rather piercing voice began speaking, sounding very impatient and droning. "Yes, Miss Lynch, this is Roger Rippert with Sincere Real Estate again. I want you to know that my generous offer still stands on your property and I wish to get in touch-"

"Not that idiot again," she said, seething. "How many times do I need to tell him that we don't need his money in the first place, and don't want it?"

Her finger jabbed the skip button and she went down the hall, expecting to listen to the messages as she got something to eat. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and put her head in, searching for a snack.

A kind but serious sounding person started over the speaker, "Hello this is St. Louis Medical Center calling about the test results for Mr. John Dale. We reg-"

Eva peeked down at her watch, almost panicking at seeing the time and became oblivious to the rest of the message.

"Oh darn, it's time for uncle's medication," she squeaked, and scurried over to the kitchen cabinet.

She snatched two prescription bottles and filled a glass of water in the sink. Returning down the hall, she stopped in front of a bedroom door and knocked.

"Uncle John, are you awake? It's time for your medication."

From inside came a raspy distant reply, "Oh, of course, come in."

She swung the door open and went in quietly, stopping beside a nightstand to put the glass and bottles down.

"I would have gotten up earlier, but I'm just so tired," he said, taking the glass and pills she handed him.

"It's alright," she said a little too quickly, and looked away.

"Eva," he said warningly, returning the glass to her.

She turned back to him and met his scolding gaze. It was hard for her to see him this way. His skin was pale and drawn; his grey hair was unruly and as she took the glass, felt that his hand was thin and cold. The brightness of the bed sheets contrasted sharply with his appearance, and made him seem faded.

"Don't take such care around me. As I have always said, you are like a daughter to me, and were to Margaret," he said.

"Uncle-"

"There is nothing you can do that will disturb me," he said, interrupting, and then suddenly smirked. "Forget what the damn doctor may have said! Nothing is going to stop me from joining my wife on the other side!"

"That's enough Uncle John!" Eva said seriously, a frown plastered on her face.

He raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Well one of us has to keep our sense of humor. I'm sick in bed most of the time, yet I can laugh more than you." Seeing his niece grimace, he changed the topic. "So what did you do today? Did you get the horse sold?"

"Yes," Eva said with a resolute nod. "She went to Mrs. Whit down the road."

"Is that your boyfriend Seth's mother?" he asked.

She quickly turned a dark shade of red and answered in protest, "He is not my boyfriend. I've been friends with him since-"

"You were twelve," Uncle John finished for her, smiling at the look of confusion that crossed his niece's face. "I'm just pulling your leg," he said, looking closer at Eva's downcast eyes. "I know it must've been hard today."

She nodded and said solemnly, "I know we couldn't keep Aunt Maggie's old horse. You were the only one who rode her since-"

"Your aunt died," he said. Slight annoyance flashed across Eva's face and he smiled. "I'm not going to stop interrupting you until you promise me you're going to go out and have some fun. Quit worrying about everything, you've expended yourself over my sake, and I'm not worth it."

Her mouth opened in protest, but she immediately shut it upon seeing the "don't argue with me" look that he gave her. Without another word, Eva got up and left.

A half hour later, she found herself sulking on the porch steps. Her head was bent toward her lap and she sat twiddling her bracelet with her fingers.

_I wish he wouldn't be so depressing. I know he's sick. I wish I wasn't so depressing. But how can I go around and do other things, a smile plastered on my face, when I'm about to lose another person in my life?_

The silver links continued to clink melodically as she ran her fingers over the engraved initials "EL" that were upon the pendant. It had been found by her aunt in an antique shop and given to her as an eighteenth birthday present. A week later her aunt had died of a heart attack in the field near the stream.

"Eva?"

She jumped in surprise, and looking up, saw her friend Seth Whit standing there. He was inspecting her with a worried expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming forward and taking a seat on the steps beside her.

"I'm fine," she said, turning to face him with a half hearted smile. His green eyes still held doubt, and feeling overly examined, she stared back at him. His light brown hair was on end, and his clothes were full of dirt and holes. "Never mind me, what're you doing here? And what in the world happened to you? Yuck, you smell horrible."

He cringed slightly and answered, "Don't remind me. My mom had me adding the cow manure to the compost heap. Then she pulled me out and sent me over here to get the horse she bought."

"Why did she buy Morna?" Eva asked interestedly.

"We're teaching Susie to ride and your mare is old and gentle enough for her. I tried to get the Hollingers to sell us the pony they are getting rid of. They refuse to have anything to do with us though, since we're friendly with your family."

"Psht the Hollingers," she said carelessly. "I thought your little sister was scared of horses?"

"I'm not really sure. But it could be from when a certain someone kept going on about her scary experiences with urban mounts?" he said, smiling at her mischievously.

"You're the one who insisted on messing with her head!" she argued, and swatted him in jest. Immediately, she withdrew her hand and moved away, making a face. "Okay you _really_ need a bath!"

Laughing, Seth said, "Alright I promise I'll have one by the time I come back." Seeing her bewilderment, he added, "You are coming with Cara and I to the mall, no excuses! You've been stuck on the farm for two weeks."

"With good reason!" she snapped, and then seemed horrified with herself. "Sorry. Fine, I'll tag along. You're not the only one on my case about getting out for awhile. Now let's go get the mare and get you out of here before I change my mind."

Seth grinned and offered her a hand up and she led him in the direction of the stables.

.-.-.-.

It was ten o'clock at night when Seth's car pulled up on the gravel driveway in front of the Creek Halls farmhouse. Rain drummed heavily upon the roof of the car and Eva looked through the window in disdain.

"Better hurry or you'll get soaked," Seth said half-humorously.

"Or caked with mud," she said, smiling at him. "Cara sure loved that little story about you and the cow poop."

"Sure, you just had to make me look bad."

"I knew it!" Eva said teasingly. "It's so cute. I knew you had a thing for her."

"Yeah, and you're not going to say anything about it!"

"Or what?"

Seth ignored her and peered out the window in the direction of the fields. He turned back toward her, seeming worried. "Be careful, it's one of those dark nights…"

"What are you talking about?" Eva asked, then lifting an eyebrow as she thought about it. "You don't mean-"

"It's perfect setting for Elena Lock to pay a visit!" Seth said evilly, raising his hands and making a face. "They say a hundred years ago, heartbroken and insane, she threw herself into the waters near Creek Halls, bringing a dreadful curse upon those who dare disturb her!"

Eva snorted and shook her head. "Seth, you heard that when we were thirteen from Aunt Maggie. That was just a myth she brought up just so you wouldn't toilet paper our trees on Halloween!"

"Well it worked!"

"Good night, Seth," she said, rolling her eyes and getting out of the car.

She splashed through a puddle of mud and up the steps, waving at him over her shoulder. With a quick jangle of her keys the door opened and she went into the nice and dry house. Quickly, she took off her windbreaker and shoes, both were completely soaked from the downpour. She glimpsed at her watch and gasped as she saw the time. Automatically, she went to the hall and stalked to her Uncle's bedroom, silently opening the door. The hall light behind her threw dim light into the room, allowing her to see. To her relief the dinner tray she had left for him was completely eaten and sitting on a nearby table. The sound of snoring came from the bed.

"Night, Uncle John," she whispered, closing the door.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she left the hall for the stairs and went up. Unfortunately the stairs creaked under her feet, making her wince at the racket that only stopped once she reached the top. Weary from her long day, she could not help hurrying to her room and half flinging the door open when her hand was upon the knob.

Fumbling around, she attempted to locate her lamp and in the process, bumped and knocked over several fencing and equestrian trophies.

"Shit!"

With another blind grope, she finally found her lamp and flicked it on. An aggravated "meow" startled her, before she saw the white cat stretched out on the windowsill.

"Nahar, you scared me out of my wits!" she said, bending over to pick up the trophies.

The cat only responded with another "meow" and then sat watching her change into pajamas. Slowly she walked over and picked up her cat from the sill and gazed out the window, nuzzling him.

The wind still howled outside, causing tree branches to scratch at the house. Not far from her viewpoint, she could see the rain pouring down, overflowing the creek and swimming pond. The water seemed dark and menacing as it thrashed with the rain and rushed on. Thoughts of Elena Lock and her dead aunt lying there in the field flashed through her mind, she turned away shuddering.

She went to her bed and reached for the book on her nightstand, thinking to escape for awhile into another world with the words of Tolkien. But tiredly her hand dropped from it and she flicked off the lamp instead. Eva rolled under the covers, clutching Nahar close, and drifted into sleep.

* * *

**Author's Preface: **

As an author, I did not write this story from beginning and move on from there. The overall idea hit me and the prologue was the first bit I wrote, even though it does not show up until Chapter Six. I put the prologue with this chapter because the formatting otherwise had been driving me insane. There was no real theme I wished to convey, but I came acrossthe quote (outlined at the top) that perfectly describes this story.

- - -

What was the deal with the Prologue? Where are Eva's parents? Why are the Hollinger's so mad at the Dale/Lynches? Who exactly was Elena Lock? Where am I going with all this? What does my title mean? All this and more in future updates of: "Of Earth and Water."

**A/N: **Chapter one was a jump to the real beginning of my story, I just felt like starting everything off with a little suspense. I hope this provided enough to detail (for now) to get me moving, the Prologue will show up in a later chapter.

4/30/04: I fixed the layout of the story, it was nuts to have chapter 11 on the twelfth point.


	2. Ch 2: Faded

Chapter Two: Faded

"Ah, we fondly cherish  
Faded things  
That had better perish.  
Memory clings  
To each leaf it saves.  
Chilly winds are blowing.  
It will soon be snowing  
On our graves."

-John Henry Boner

- - -

_All that was heard was the faint rumble of wheels and swoosh of traffic that passed the vehicle by…_

The twelve year old girl sat impatiently in her place, incessantly tapping her foot against the car seat before her.

"Mom," she whimpered, while fiddling nervously with the straps of her backpack. "Can't I just skip fencing practice today?"

The woman sitting before her only turned her dark haired head toward her daughter and smiled sympathetically.

At the wheel, her father frowned slightly and said sternly, "Eva, I'm sorry. We paid a lot for those lessons and the team is counting on you."

"But it's my birthday!" she cried.

A warning look from her mother silenced her protest and she slumped back against her seat.

"Last year you spent your whole birthday in the stables," her father said helpfully.

"Yeah, but that was cause I'd just got Basil," she said, then mumbled inaudibly. "He's my best-friend; at least he listens to me."

She turned her head toward the window and watched the large houses of her little affluent suburb zip by as the car moved along. The motion of the vehicle swayed her slightly sideways as her father crossed an extremely busy intersection.

"Damn it," her father swore. "Why did they build a school near a road filled with yo-yos?"

Seconds later the car pulled up in the front of a large brick building with a sign reading, "Hawthorn Hills Junior High". Snatching the gym bag on the seat beside her, the girl opened the car door quickly and jumped out. The door was slammed shut in the middle of her parents', "Have a good day."

With a rev, the car sped off and left her to sulkily walk up the sidewalk to the school. A girl with short blond hair sitting on the front steps looked up from her book and grinned.

"Did you just get here?" she asked.

"Yeah Missy," Eva replied.

She turned around, pointing out a black BMW waiting at the stoplight amidst tons of traffic.

"Looks like I beat you here again," Missy said.

"Yeah," Eva replied distantly, still staring at her parents' car wistfully.

"You owe me a dollar then."

The stoplight changed to green and the car reacted immediately, flying into the cross section. The stream of traffic headed by a large truck, upon the opposite side did the same thing. It seemed the rig must have been over the separation line, for it was suddenly aligned with the black BMW. Eva's eyes opened wide as the monster swerved too late and the small car was caught and crushed beneath the massive wheels.

The world halted.

Squeals of tires and breaks, confused shouts, and slamming of doors filled the air in a din. These sounds though were getting farther away as Eva's hands trembled and a void of horror overtook her.

"Mom? Dad?" she choked.

Her vision began to swirl and she only saw vague shapes as tears dropped from her eyes. The wail of sirens and confused chatter of students and adults pervaded the space around her. Her name was called somewhere, a hand no bigger than her own covered her fingers and pulled gently. Not caring that she stumbled, she followed the person blindly to another spot on the sidewalk and stopped. A hand carefully helped her sit down on some steps.

"Oh my goodness. Eva," came the gentle voice of a woman.

She turned her head slowly she made out the face of her teacher through the stinging haze in her eyes. Her friend Missy immediately sat beside them, looking frightened and worried. Feeling lost and not wanting others to see the tears, Eva flung herself against the teacher. Burying her head into the woman's shoulder, an arm pulled her close and finally sobs broke forth. Soon she sat there quietly, but still tucked against the woman as she heard the flurry of people increase around her.

Adults were attempting to hurry the remaining children into the school building. The firefighters finally dropped a crumpled black mass (once a door) onto the street and the sound resonated. It reached Eva's ears and in confusion she partially lifted her head in their direction.

Two yellow jacketed backs were in the line of sight, both bent over an opening in the marred car. Her heart began to beat wildly as she saw them lifting something onto a stretcher with extreme caution. One of the men stepped back and even from where she sat, Eva was able to see what they were mulling over. Terror and cold rushed through her as she surveyed the view. An awkwardly bent arm dangled towards the ground, debris and scratches covered the now unfamiliar form of her mother.

_A long scream rent the air as the world became dreadfully blurry and seemed to tip upside down…_

Eva sat up in bed with a start. Her vision was dark and unfocused, causing panic to rise, before she remembered that this was her bedroom in Creek Halls Farm. Her shirt was plastered to her back from the sweat and she wiped a hand across her wet eyes and cheeks, realizing that she had been crying. Her head pounding terribly, she placed her head in her hands, feeling heavy with exhaustion, even after sleep. The terrifying images of the night flashed across her mind and she trembled with distress.

The nightmare was no mere conjure, it had once been real. It was the clear memory of the day she had witnessed the death of her parents and seen her life alter forever. She had thought it long passed and faded into the depths of her past, but evidently it still clung to the edges of her mind. Perhaps it was because often she looked at her Uncle, who seemed so thin and wilting and saw that she had once more have to give someone else to death…

"No," she whispered to herself. "Don't think like that."

Suddenly she heard faint mewing and lifting her head, she saw Nahar perched upon the windowsill.

"Aw sweetie," she said hoarsely, and realized her throat was dry and sore. "I must've been screaming last night."

She watched him clean his paws, noticing the rising sun through the window behind him. Deciding to get up, she swung her legs over the bedside and stumbled around her room to get dressed. Her head poked through a t-shirt and she glanced outside. The morning sun was struggling with the leftover grey of the night storm only the plopping of water reached her ears. Nahar followed her out of the bedroom and through the house, which lay completely silent and still. Eva tried to be as quiet as was possible, flinching when a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. She did not wish to possibly disturb the rest of her Uncle again; her screams would have reached the first floor.

At the insistence of her cat she headed for the kitchen and fed him, then quickly prepared breakfast and the morning medications for her Uncle. Her heart lightened as she carried the extra heavy tray down the hall. She was going to make up for last night by fussing over him today. Shifting the tray, she knocked once, then again at not receiving an answer.

"Seems I did keep him up last night, he's dead tired," Eva said with amusement, and went in anyway.

The lights were still off and she did not bother to turn them on, since she could effortlessly move around that room (even in the dark). She set her burden on the bedside table with a slight plunk and called his name.

"Uncle John."

"…Uncle John."

"U-n-c-l-e J-o-h-n."

"Uncle John?"

With a sigh she tapped his shoulder, since he was sleeping facing away from her. After no response, she shook his shoulder and when he did not wake, shook him more urgently.

"Uncle?" she said loudly, her voice rising in alarm.

She touched his arm and immediately withdrew it at feeling how limp and cold he was. Trembling, she reached out with both hands and rolled him upon his back, discovering that he was heavy to move. His eyes remained closed, even as she put her hands on his shoulders. Urgently, she laid a hand upon his wrist, chest, then face, and found no pulse, no breath, and no flutter of life.

"Please-, Uncle-," Eva pleaded, her voice cracking and eyes brimming with tears. "Don't leave me alone."

A tearful gasp escaped her; she collapsed onto her knees and bent over the edge of the bed. Her hands clutched his cold one as her heart wrenched with sobs. He was gone forever.


	3. Ch 3: A Cold Solitude

To my birthday party group. We have our very own Nine! Instead of cloaks and swords, we go along in lip gloss and sandals, hunting freshmen. _(just kidding)_

READ AND REVIEW, THANKIES!

Chapter Three: A Cold Solitude

_"A feeling of sadness and longing_  
_That is not akin to pain,_  
And resembles sorrow only  
_As the mist resembles the rain…"_  
_-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

_"My days are in the yellow leaf;  
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;  
The worm, the canker, and the grief  
Are mine alone!"_

-George Gordon Noel Byron

- - -

Another drop hit her already wet cheeks. It was salty and sorrowful, unlike the fresh drops of rain now falling around Eva. It drowned her feet, sticking them in the mud and ran in rivulets from stone angels and crosses. Every mourner was completely soaked through as they stood encircling the opening in the ground. All of them were clad in black, barely recognizable from the day's grayness and pity which lay about them. Most came out of feigned respect, or gratuity for having been named in the final will of Jonathan Dale.

Eva's glances were blank and uncaring. It was powered by the hollow stab of loss that for these several days, had been in her heart. She wished that none of them had come. She stayed her eyes from those farthest away, where stood her old friend Seth and his family with Cara. They were among those named to receive compensation from her Uncle's will. Soon after his death, the document had been read and immediately everything between them had changed. Corrupted and fed by old hatreds and greed, friend was turned from friend and kin from kin. Seth was forever charged against Eva by his blood and very mother. Cara stood with him; bound by love and allegiance with her family and community.

Eva's eyes now lay upon her Uncle's wooden bed at their feet. Her ears were as veiled as her eyes, not hearing the preacher's words that intermingled with the mid-day's darkness. The eulogy stopped and she watched him be lowered into the ground, rain and dirt tumbling in after. She threw in the single flower she held and turned away. Truly she knew it was his shell that was left behind and his spirit dwelled far beyond the reaches of the sky. She could not help silently crying out to the source of her pain that was wrought in eternal solitude beneath the earth and water

_.-.-.-._

**St. Louis****, Missouri****. July 21st:**

"Evelyn, thank you again for coming on such short notice."

"It has been too long," Eva said, smiling sincerely.

"I know it must be hard. I hope my request for this meeting was not too abrupt or vexing," he responded. Brown eyes met hers in concern and wrinkles of worry were etched in the older man's face as they talked.

"Not at all Mr. Langley. You're the family lawyer and friend."

He sighed and said solemnly, "Not a very good friend. I should've contacted you sooner, I've heard about your predicament with the Whits and Hollingers. It's terrible you have to deal with their harassment everyday."

"The locals too, but I can handle it. I'm isolated out in Creek Halls...but then again, I've always been pretty much alone."

"Your Uncle tried to make permanent restitution with them through the will, but it seems now it didn't work. I can't understand them," the lawyer said, becoming angry.

Eva grimaced and said hesitantly, "Well it stems from this feud with Elena Lock, my great grandmother's sister."

"That's got to be some grudge for it to be going on this long," he exclaimed.

"It began when Elena's second husband Sean Hollinger plotted and attempted to steal the family farm Creek Halls and wealth. His partner in crime was his cousin Martha Marshall, they kept her sons Keith and Samuel away, treating her cruelly. She eventually killed herself."

"How horrid!"

"When Elena's sister Aileen Lynch found out what they'd done, she swore to get them back. The Lynches shunned their kin and reclaimed Elena's property, therefore angering the Hollingers. The Hollingers are descended from Samuel Hollinger and the Whits are direct descendants of Sean and Martha's daughter Miriam. The Whits had seemed to put it in the past, then Aunt Maggie and Uncle John were friendly with them, so I became friends with Seth. The Elena Lock story spread and it's a town legend now."

"I vaguely remember Jonathan mentioning it," he said thoughtfully, and rubbed his chin. "The young woman died on your property, drowned in the stream bed."

"She's said to haunt the banks of that bed of water where she died. She lies in wait for to utterly transform her victims, in contempt of the misery that was done upon her. Kids tend to avoid our farm around the creepy hours and Seth, Cara, and I used to joke constantly about it. So, I couldn't completely understand when they started quarreling with me over it."

"Their greedy families, Evelyn," Mr. Langley responded. "Lust for money can do that to people and harm those closest to them. It's why your Aunt took her share of the fortune and went to occupy the farm. To get away from the madness. She was so unlike her father and brother...Well and speaking of your grandfather, Michael called me recently and asked that I speak with you."

"Oh my grandfather whom I see twice a year on Christmas and birthdays, and receive cards on his behalf from his secretary?"

"I know he can be a cold businessman, but he's heard of what's been happening to you lately. He's asked that I propose you for a position at his company."

"He has?" Eva answered, raising an eyebrow. "He believes I can do the family business?"

"Yes, I believe you can too," Langley said confidently. He picked up a folder on his desk, glanced at it, then back at her. "You excelled in your college majors and especially with your financial background, I'm surprised you didn't enter graduate school."

"I felt too imprisoned and stiff there underneath the hawk eye of my grandfather and all the pressure. Besides I was needed back home, so I returned to the farm."

"There's peace and a future if you return to the city with your grandfather. Otherwise, I have no more helpful advice."

Eva sat still for several moments, thinking over the offer, but was not tempted in the least. Her thoughts sought for beyond it and her eyes came to rest on the window behind the lawyer's head. Through it could be seen the Arch, gleaming in the sun. It was the gateway to the west and the landmark of a mind boggling expedition.

Her gaze slid back to Langley's and she smiled. "Perhaps I'll take a trip. Hawaii or something."

_.-.-.-._

It was no less than half hour later when Eva pulled in the farm driveway, having took leave of Mr. Langley. She looked up at the house as she slammed the car door and shook her head. Her feet turned and trudged over to where the green fields met the deep rocky stream. Collapsing beside it, she felt the sudden weariness of the days settle on her like a pressing weight. The warmth and brightness of the sun no longer was felt, a sad coldness clung to every leaf, stone and breath of air. She could feel that the barren seasons would come sooner this year. Already though, the frost of autumn seemed to lie upon the fields. The glimmering water caught her eye and cautiously bending over the side, saw herself reflected there.

"That's not me anymore. Anywhere but here, even the final end," she whispered, and fell back upon her knees.

Her arms, crossed and a hand accidentally brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist, given to her by Aunt Maggie. Feeling completely lost, she desperately clutched at it and bowed her head.

* * *

A/N: I made a family tree to sort out all of the people that came in this chapter. Try going to my "Of Earth and Water" webpage linked from my homepage to see it. 

8/20: I had to fix an error with the genius family explanation in this chapter, Uncle John was related to the Lynches by _marriage _with Aunt Maggie. (Eva's father's sister). I also extended the family tree.


	4. Ch 4: Tears of Yesterday

**A/N: **_Italics_ represent the protagonist's thoughts.

_For Elyssa, unhappiness claimed your life; I hope that you are at peace. _

Chapter Four: Tears of Yesterday

"The tasks are done and the tears are shed.  
Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;  
Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,  
Are healed with the healing that night has shed."

-Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

July 22nd 

The sun bore down brightly on Creek Halls the next day. Eva took it as a sign of hope and bothered to get out of bed, though she was not up for it. Later, around four o'clock the sunlight seemed to relent, making it slightly darker in the barn. Eva was sticky with sweat and her pants were caked with mud, though it was not very noticeable on her brown pants. She wiped her hands on her sides and brushed off strands of hay in her hair and on her clothes.

The horses neighed as she neared the door, quite peppy after she had spent the day with them and cleaned their stalls. She reclaimed her good jewelry from the tin can by the entrance and refastened them as she went outside. Her footsteps faltered as she heard the sound of the stream. Instantly, she detoured for it, lured by the cool calmness that it promised. It glistened in the light and seemed to call with its melodic rushing.

Eagerly, she rolled her jeans tightly to the knee and removed her riding boots, balling her socks up in them. They swung from one hand as she waded into the water and gasped with bliss. The water was especially deep as a result of the rains the day before and already came past her knees. Smooth pebbles splayed beneath her feet as she kicked through the cold water. The simple pleasure in being there and the weight that lifted away amazed her.

Her foot suddenly slipped on the bottom and she fell forward. Instinctively, her arms went out in front of her and she landed on them, halfway in the water. Eva's head lifted out and she pushed herself onto her knees.

"Whoa," she choked, and rubbed her stinging hands together.

Solemnly, she saw her boot was now floating away. She nabbed it, setting it on a large rock nearby that jutted out of the water. Her eyes darted around, searching for the other one, when a glittering hint of silver caught her eye. Extremely curious, she got to her feet and went to it, shocked as she bent for a closer look. Caught beneath another big rock, was her bracelet that had the "EL" initials engraved on it.

_It must've got caught there yesterday._

She gently wiggled it back and forth, but it was caught snugly beneath the rock. Bracing her foot, she pulled on it hard. Abruptly, the bracelet came free and she lost her footing, falling backwards. She hit the large rock behind her and pain shot through the back of her head. Water closed over her, and darkness covered her eyes.


	5. Ch 5: Beyond the Creek

To Phoenix, who sits torn in the ashes, may she rise again.

Chapter Five: Beyond the Creek

"That day by water or fire or air  
My feet shall fall in the destined snare  
Wherever my road may lie."  
-Dante Gabriel Rossetti

"Adieu! adieu! my native shore  
Fades o'er the waters blue."  
-George Gordon Noel Byron

The sound of water swirled in her ears, the creek dragging her farther down. Stones scratched and tore at her skin and clothes, darkness pressing on her and the water gripping her breath. She twisted with the current, her limbs flailing wildly for the blurry surface above. Her legs finally bent and pushed diagonally off the bottom, thrusting her head above the surface.

Sweet air came in rattling gasps and her line of sight cleared enough for her to make out a large boulder at the water's edge. Frantically she grabbed onto it, and clutched her body against its rough edges. Her arms trembled as she reached past it for the shore, sliding her body her over, and pushing clumsily with her legs. In relief her body tumbled to the dry ground, and instantly pain hit her, causing darkness to consume her conscious being.

.-.-.-.

Eva's eyes opened slowly as she awoke and realized she was flat on her back. With mild disbelief she noted that the cool metal of her bracelet could be felt in her hand. The babble of water was heard a few feet away where she'd emerged, and the shadowed branched of the trees hung over her head. While she lay there on the ground, she rubbed her forehead, and stared bitterly at the trees above.

_When I get up, this stream and wood are getting fenced off. Creek Halls will have a horrible reputation if someone drowns here, in addition to the Elena legend._

Slowly she sat up and peered in the direction of the farm house. When she was younger, she would always go to the other side of the stream. She loved to gaze upon the horses in the green fields and buildings, which spread out in a sweeping view from that point.

She blinked. There were _no fields, barn or house,_ and the stream running in front of her was _not _Stone Creek. Frantically she swiveled her head, only to see more, more, and more trees.

_I'm in the **middle **of a freaking wood?_ She jumped to her feet. _This must be a branch of Stone Creek, and this the back part of the woods. Or some loony bin dragged me here? The Hollingers? I'm so suing them. Could the creek have carried me this far? I'm going to plug that thing up and sell its sorry butt to that stupid realtor. **He **can drown in it. I need to get back to the house, my body's killing me, and it will be dark out soon enough._

Her eyes met the stream bank and to her shock, her boots lay there, cast aside by the water. Hesitantly she stumbled over and to her dismay, they were extremely wet. Pain hit her and she peered down, seeing scratches and bruises along her lower arms and legs. Her shirt was torn on the side and in several spots.

_Crummy cheap piece of junk._

Holding her boots, she hobbled along in the direction the water flowed, hoping to find her way back. There was silence as she went along, and her spine prickled in anticipation. After several minutes, she came to a wide straight cutting through the trees. In wonder, she examined the tract that ran perpendicular to her feet. It seemed like some path or even a road, wide enough for a car or two to pass through, bereft of growing things and packed down hard.

_What the heck? Is someone running a logging operation or something in my woods? Who cut a dirt highway through my property!?_

Suddenly, she heard a faraway thumping and the snort of a horse.

"Ha," she whispered, backing into the trees.

Depending on what this person looked like, she'd decide whether to accost them for trespassing or ask for help. Further from the road side, the trees would hide her well and she went there. She saw a vague figure on horseback come into view, but he or she was obscured by the trees. Determinedly she followed them. Soon, she lost sight of them and the hoof beats altogether ceased to sound in her ears.

"Damn it," she muttered, stepping onto the road.

In either direction there was no sign of the person, and she sighed. She wandered past the road and came into a clearing. All around her stood tall and lissome trees with high spread branches. The quiet rustle of leaves filled the air, stirred by a cool wind that began to sweep by. The flowing air sent a chill through her still damp clothes, the fabric clinging to her skin and of no protection.

She folded her arms to her chest for a little warmth and slowly walked along. The sun slanted through the canopy overhead and cast her shadow upon the ground, which she noticed out of the corner of her eye. It momentarily startled her, but even as she realized what it was, it added to her uneasiness and confusion.

Her nerves were on the utmost edge, her footsteps halted and awkward as the throbbing and pain increased in the marks upon her legs and head. Her still cold skin suddenly tingled and in anxiety she completely turned to look behind her. Nothing was there and she sighed in relief. She began to take note of her shadow, when unexpectedly another shadow fell across it. Instantly, she felt a sharp metal point pressed to her back.

"Do not move."

Panic seized her and she heard her attacker gasp. "You're a woman," they said in a throaty voice.

The sharp point was taken from her back and instantaneously she took the opportunity to run for it. She went several yards before the stranger tackled her, sending them both sprawling to the ground. He seized her shoulders and flipped her upwards. She saw a broad bearded face and promptly screamed, then kneed him between his thighs. The man winced and his hold on her loosened enough so that she liberated an arm and hit him in the face. He fell back and she wiggled partially free, but automatically was pinned down again, her hands restrained in a death grip behind her back.

"Hold still," her attacker said in an undertone. "Neither of us needs to be injured further."

"You can't do this," Eva snapped. "I'll make sure you get thrown in prison. Trespassing on my property and-"

"Who are you?" the captor asked, sounding confused.

She remained silent.

"I have done nothing wrong," he continued, then tightened his grip. "Why were you following me?"

"I was not following you," she answered.

"Yes you were. I heard your steps in the forest, and caught you near my resting place."

"I wanted to see who you were," Eva groaned. "Why are you in my woods?"

She felt his strong gaze. "Were you attacked?"

"Yes," she muttered.

"By whom?"

"You," she snapped. _Who did he think he was?_

"If I let you up, will you promise not to run away?"

"Maybe."

He rolled off her and helped her to sit up straight.

"Thanks," Eva lied. "You're very heavy."

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I did not wish to hurt you."

"Yeah right."

He tilted his head, an odd glint in his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Evelyn Lynch, I live up at Creek Halls," she said, looking at him irritatedly.

"That was not on the map. Is that place near to Mering Stream?" he said, eagerly. "If you have a place I may rest in, I'm very travel weary."

She examined him closely, noticing his messy dark hair shorn about his shoulders, beard, and blue-grey eyes. His clothing and gear were strange, and belonged in a medieval reenactment. Assuming he was possibly an escaped mental patient, she shook her head. "Probably not a good idea." He seemed crestfallen, but she was impatient with his reaction. "First of all, I don't even know you. Second, for all I know, you're some raping mongrel lying in wait for victims."

The man lifted his head proudly. "You need not fear me for I am Boromir, High Warden of the White Tower of Gondor, son of Denethor the Steward."

To his astonishment, the young woman burst out laughing.

"What?" The man stared at her, clearly concerned. "Lady, you are clearly hysterical. Do you need assistance?"

Half-choking on mirth, she eyed him strangely. "You don't seem to be crazy. But honestly, you expect me to believe you're Boromir? I'm not stupid, those characters don't exist. God--"

"I tell nothing but the truth," the man said, sitting back on his knees. Beneath a fur-lined cloak, he wore clothing that seemed rich and well made, the silvery collar of his shirt set with a single white stone. Conspicuously hung at his side was the hilt and scabbard of a sword.

_He could have bought that stuff anywhere, or made it. Though why would he spend tons of money on a costume like that…? And why don't I recognize anything around here?_

"Um where did you say we are?" she asked with a strangled voice.

"Near Mering Stream, the border of Anórien and Rohan."

"Anórien? As in Gondor's fief and Rohan as in the place of horses?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Gondor, as in Middle Earth?"

"Yes."

Eva's eyes opened wide and she began to breathe hard. "No, this is not possible…."

_You're losing it._

"Miss, are you alright?"

"I don't think so." She looked around at the plants and trees and realized she'd never seen them in the United States. "Wait, prove it?"

"What?"

"Prove you're Boromir of Gondor."

He searched her face, then pulled something from his side that lay beneath his cloak. On a belt was hung a great horn, tipped with silver. "The horn of the Stewards, given each generation to the eldest son-"

"Taken from the wild-oxen of Rhûn by the Steward Vorondil."

He gave her a curious glance, but allowed her to run her fingers over it.

"It's beautiful," she sighed. Boromir put the horn away. "This is just so strange, how could it have happened? Why did it happen?" Eva said sullenly, banging her head against her knees.

"Do not despair," he said kindly. "We shall return you to your home."

She shook her head. "Stop saying that. You don't understand, I'm not exactly from around here. My home is very far away west somewhere. I don't know why I'm here, or how I got here. The last thing I remember is the stream next to my house, and then this one, Mering or whatever you call it."

"I acknowledge you are lost and hurt, come rest at my camp."

_What the heck. Nothing to lose._

* * *

**A/N: **Ok so we finally made it to the beginning of the "action". Don't throw cupcakes at me for this! ducks Will Boromir kill her? Is she unconscious and insane? Am I trying to confuse you with crazy questions?

Anyway, in case someone's been wondering, chapters 4 and 5 have been dedicated to people at my high school. Elyssa was a sophomore who committed suicide, the hallways were deathly silent after the announcement was made over the loud speaker at school by our principal. This brought a hard impact on us all, not too many people knew her, yet everyone learned more from peers than they would by just talking to her. We realized how seriously people can take things.

Phoenix is a fellow junior in my Advisory (or homeroom) and is quite a unique person with a funny attitude. She's alone in a hospital room after she slashed her wrists. Everyone wonders about her, we don't know if we'll see her ever in school again, and it's a very sad occurrence. Both of these things happened within the last month and a half.

Thanks for reading so far.

-Kaye-

Note: 12/11/04: Phoenix is now in excellent condition!


	6. Ch 6: The Companion

Chapter Six: The Companion

"An agreeable companion on a journey

is as good as a carriage."

-Publius Syrus (42 BCE)

- - -

It was a short distance to where Boromir had left his horse and belongings. Now both sat beside a fire he'd made, watching her boots and socks dry.

"Why were you soaked when I found you?" he asked out of nowhere.

Eva went slightly red. "I uh, tripped in the water, and almost drowned."

"Is that where you received this?" he pointed a finger to the gash on her shin, then examined her for a few moments. "You have very unusual clothing. Women in my land are accustomed to dresses. You should change your clothing for long travel, and use that 'shirt' for binding wounds."

Eva looked dismally are her shirt. It was ripped from the waist to the back and a thready hole was in the shoulder. "I gladly would do that, except I have no extra clothing or even supplies."

"You are absolutely stranded," Boromir said, with an eyebrow raised.

Quietly she nodded. "As I said, my home is father west than you even know of. I don't have anything but the clothing on my back."

"Left for dead," he muttered. "Then I must help you."

"No realty, that's-"

"I insist Lady Evelyn," he interrupted sternly. "Or I will force you to accept my assistance. We are still in my land."

An amused smiled crossed her face, and then faded. "I'm not sure if even the Steward's heir may be able to help me…I'm sorry, I sound so helpless."

"I am on my way northwest on important matters for my country. You shall come with me to Imladris. The folk there must have great knowledge of the western lands, for that is whence they came. If you wish not to travel so far for it is over 200 leagues distant, I might leave you in Edoras, the dwelling city of the Rohirric King, and his royal kin. They would treat you with kindness on behalf of Gondor."

"I would love to see the Elves, and I think it'd be smart to stick with you. Our paths crossed in the middle of nowhere, I might be able to see home again."

"Very well," he mused. "It shall be less boring with a travel companion."

"A couple things though. I ride on the horse, and I still don't trust you."

"I see know harm in that. We have yet to earn that privilege with one another, Lady Evelyn."

"Oh and call me Eva."

When they were finally dry, Eva eagerly claimed her boots and socks, but did not put them on either. Her feet were too beaten to be touched. At her companion's request she gathered more firewood as he withdrew food from his saddlebags. It still amazed her where she'd ended up, and every so often would pinch herself, touch something around her, or stare at the Gondorian to make sure he was real. Every time he was. The pile of branches rolled out of her arms as she placed it near the fire and sat down. The gash on her shin still lay exposed to the air and twinged every time she moved.

Finally having enough, she ripped at the shoulder of her shirt, and took the sleeve to her leg. Boromir took a spot two feet away, and watching her work with the rag. She wet it with some water, then began removing the dried paths of blood from her body. He opened his bag and removed two folded bundles of cloth, suddenly handing both to her.Hesitantly she received both, giving him an odd glance as she examined it. It was some sort of grey cloak; the second was a lightweight long sleeved tunic in dark green.

"What are these for?" she asked, folding them and handing them to him.

He did not retrieve the clothes. "These were extra clothing for the warmer weather of the season. It has not become very warm this year, and I do not need them. By not wearing my gambeson and cloak constantly, I am fine."

"I can't take your only other shirt."

He pushed her hands back towards her. "They are clean and were never used. I will not let you walk around for your sake in such a worn shirt. The cloak will provide protection from the weather, or shield your male raiment if you're embarrassed. In Edoras we will find some female items for you."

One look at his face, and she knew not to argue. After searching for a suitable spot, she found a very wide tree, and slipped behind it. The shirt went on easily enough, and allowed her to observe it closer. It was colored a very deep rich green, closed with small silver clasps, and the cloak was a dark grey that seemed to blend in with the deepening shadows around her. Since it was sewn for a man, she had to tuck a lot of it into her waistband, and toll up the sleeves.

Her hair lay limp and frizzy from head to its stopping point halfway down her back. It constantly got in the way, so she ripped one last bit off her shirt, and tied off a braid with it. The cloak did not go on easily; it took some fumbling with the unfamiliar laces before it went on. She stepped from behind the tree, walking to Boromir for an opinion.

He lifted his head, and nodded approvingly. "With that and your features, you might pass for one of my people. That will do for now. Would you like something to eat?"

Thanking him, she sat on the ground, and gratefully accepted the bread and dried meat he offered.

"We'll rest here tonight if you agree."

She shrugged. "You're the one with the sword, whatever you want is fine by me."

.-.-.-.

Eva woke up in the middle of the night, and for a brief moment, had no clue where she was. "Oh, it wasn't a nightmare."

She untangled her cloak and sat up a bit. She'd been wrapped in it against a tree root, which served as her pillow. The moon cast a white sheen onto the trees, and the stars were veiled by clouds. It was dead silent, and she looked about. It was possible to make out the form of Boromir several feet away lying on the ground. With a sigh she flipped onto her back, and later her dreams were fraught with eerie things.

* * *

A/N: Ok sorry it was so short, the action is coming up! 


	7. Ch 7: Traveling

Chapter Seven: Traveling

_"Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education;_

_in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth_

_into a country before he hath some entrance into the_

_language, goeth to school, and not to travel."_

- Francis Bacon

Boromir was up as the sun began to creep into the sky, and could tell his new companion was deeply asleep. For awhile he observed her, and thought more about what had happened. It was quite an enigma to him. He'd found her in the middle of his path, a woman not equipped for traveling, with a slightly off accent, but appearing as one of his people; tall, dark haired, and bright eyed. Her head rested against a tree and wisps of hair were splayed over her face. The woman seemed so peaceful that he dared not bother her, and let her continue dreaming.

= = =

Eva's eyes fluttered open, and was assaulted by a bright blur of the sun and her surroundings.

"You are finally up," came an amused call from her right.

She turned her head, realizing it was Boromir. He was watching her from over a particularly large piece of parchment, which was balanced precariously on his knees.

"How long have you been awake?" she groaned, getting to her feet to stretch.

"Well its middle morning now. I woke with the first light."

She slapped herself in the forehead. "My god, I never sleep that long!"

"Its fine," he said, handing her a chunk of traveler's bread. "Yesterday was long and tiring. It would help if you could be ready to leave though within an hour."

Her feet stung as she walked over the ground and stood behind him, eating and looking at what he was reading. It turned out to be a map, and seemed to be very familiar. Keenly she traced her eyes over it, taking in the names and figures.

Boromir glanced at her, then pointed his finger at Firien Wood. "We are here." He then traced it along the _Great West Road_ to _Edoras_. "This is the next leg of our journey."

"And then through the Gap of Rohan, up the Greyflood and Loudwater to Imladris, you think."

Obviously startled, he peered up at her. "How did you know that?"

"I've seen these maps before somewhere," she said, riveting her eyes to his.

"You may prove a valuable companion then," he said shortly, rolling up the parchment.

= = =

Eva was ready to go before Boromir, and was waiting as he put the saddle on his horse, then strapped the bags on. The gelding pranced nervously as the man kept moving around him. As Boromir came around his back, Eva saw the horse's tail lift.

"Watch out!" she shouted, pointing at the horse.

Boromir jumped as he saw the tail and made it out of the way, as an unlovely clump began to gather on the ground.

"Wicked animal tried to get me," he grumbled, then turned to his savior. "Thanks."

Eva was clutching her stomach, bent over in silent laughter, causing him to grimace at her. "Very amusing I see."

"Sorry," she choked out, finally regaining her composure. "You don't like him very much."

"Clearly, and he does not like me. But who is riding on whose back?"

"All you have to do is be nicer to him."

"No thank you. Suck it in soldier," he said, patting the horse's side. He motioned to his companion. "You up first."

She came and stood by the horse's left shoulder, grasping the saddle front where the stirrup normally would be. A hand was offered, but she ignored it, swinging up expertly.

From below came a grin. "You have done this before?"

"I was raised around horses. I have a horse and pony at home."

The man shook his head, shouldered his shield, and swung up behind her. He reclaimed the reins and tightened his arms on either side of her. They were off.

= = =

Barely a half hour later, they passed out of the wood, into a much wider part of the Great West Road. The trees became fewer, and on the left, Ered Nimrais stood tall and shadowy, a fence for the seemingly endless fields before them.

"We are definitely now in Rohan." Boromir whispered to her.

= = =

Four hours later they took a break, and got back up on the horse. Eva was terribly bored, she loved riding, but after a long time, it was more like sitting in a constantly tippy chair. The scenery didn't change either, and was even more bland and tiring to stare at.

Feeling the horse move beneath her, she suddenly got an idea. "Does your horse have a name?"

"No."

"Have you thought of naming him?"

"No."

"Then may I?"

"Of course."

"Hmm…how about…Virgil... Pyrrhus... Nickel... Aaron... Harry...Brownie? Nénar?"

The list was becoming quite long, but Boromir stopped her at last. "That is a good one."

"What, Nénar?"

"Yes like the red star next to the constellation Menelmacar, the swordsman."

"Good thinking. Hello Nénar," she said, patting his shoulder.

The horse flipped an ear back as if listening to her and acknowledging his new name.

= = =

July 24th

"Eva," he said. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty three years old." She lifted head and looked her shoulder at him. "Any particular reason?"

"No, I only wished to know more about you."

"Would you like to hear a mini life story then?" Eva glanced at the long road and plains before them, the flipped her head. "Maybe a full life story."

"Good idea," he answered sarcastically.

= = =

July 25th

The sun was beginning to go down as they reined in the horse and dismounted. Boromir took what he needed, and quickly moved aside from Nénar. Eva removed everything but the horse's halter, and then picketed him into the grass. Eagerly the animal began chomping at the grass, then lowered himself and started rolling around.

A groan came from where her companion was. "No! I hate cleaning that mongrel!"

She laughed, and went over to Boromir to help him. Later they were in the middle of their rations when Eva's attention was drawn to the horse. The last sunrays glimmered on his dirty cost as he now stood on all fours, head and ears pricked toward the east.

"Something's wrong," she whispered, pointing to Nénar. "He must know something is out there."

Warily Boromir looked up, then got to his feet, standing and watching in the direction Nénar was. His hand rested heavily on the hilt of his sheathed sword as came and stood next to the horse.

Several minutes passed before he moved. "I do not think it is close. We should be safe."

A worry line on his forehead betrayed his anxiety. As they settled down to sleep, she saw his scabbard and sword slung across his lap, and that he was holding it very tightly.

= = =

July 26th

The sun was not near the horizon when Boromir awoke and began preparing for the day's journey. Eva woke up too, being a light sleeper in general, and having trouble resting on the rocky soil.

"You are awake," he said as she stretched and yawned.

She nodded, and wandered around getting the bags together with him. Afterward, she ended up cleaning the gelding, smoothing grass and dirt off him as he stood still, seeming content. Her companion looked disdainfully at the pair as she finished. The horse lowered his head, nuzzling her hand, and received pats in return.

"Always expect a woman to charm a horse," he muttered, handing the riding equipment to her.

She took the things from him, and began to put on the saddle.

= = =

The horse's hooves beat in a steady rhythm, but did not disturb its riders. At the moment, Boromir was telling her about the differences in armor by culture. Ordinarily it might've been interesting, but Eva's back hurt, she was very tired, and her attention span was terrible. Sleeping on the grassland of Rohan for three consecutive nights made her rest uneasy, and fairly worthless. Her eyes lulled shut with the movement of the horse, and she went to sleep.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Boromir or Lord of the Rings, and all that jazz, they belong to Tolkien. Someday though, I will conquer Middle Earth! Nénar and Eva are mine, and all the characters from earlier.


	8. Ch 8: Eyes of the Meadow

Chapter Eight: Eyes of the Meadow

_"Meadows trim with daisies pied,  
Shallow brooks and rivers wide;  
Towers and battlements it sees  
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,  
Where perhaps some beauty lies,  
The cynosure of neighboring eyes."_

-John Milton

July 26th _continued:_

Nénar became tense as they rode on, which was most noticeable in his stride. Every once and awhile, his male rider would pat him in an attempt to soothe him, but it didn't work very well. He didn't want the horse to wake up Eva, who'd been asleep for an hour. As she slept, her body naturally came to rest against Boromir. Uncomfortably, he had an arm thrown firmly around her waist to keep her from falling off.

Later that afternoon, the silence of the land seemed to grow, and a sudden wind began to stir in the grass. The horse perked up, and so did the Man. A drumming of hooves was heard in the distance, and was getting closer. Anxiously he squeezed his knees for the gelding to go faster, and lightly he shook Eva awake.

"It would be best if you woke up."

"No thanks," she mumbled, pushing her head further against his chest. "I don't want to go to school."

"Evelyn," he said sternly.

In the sleepy haze she opened her eyes, and felt her head pressed against something warm and solid. She lifted her head and to her embarrassment, saw it was Boromir.

"What's wrong?"

He kept swiveling his head to look over his shoulder, and looked very worried.

"We have company."

Automatically she sat up straight and peered behind them to see what was so concerning. Getting closer every minute was a galloping group of many horses and riders, the sun glinting on their armor and spears. She whipped back around toward the front of the horse.

"BOROMIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET THIS ANIMAL MOVING NOW!"

She snagged the reins from him, and broke the horse so quickly into a sprint that Boromir could only hold tightly onto her waist with his arms. The wind whistled in their ears, and the plains became a blur as Nénar ran on. The group of horsemen sped up as well, and could be heard coming faster and louder right behind them.

"It is useless!" Boromir shouted to her over the wind.

She ignored him, but suddenly Nénar faltered and slowed down considerably, and the pursuers caught up to them. In great arcs, horses and mounts came up on the sides of them, and across their path, causing them to stop. Gently Boromir took the reins from her with one hand. She gripped his forearm tightly as the riders enclosed them in a tight circle, pointing a thicket of spears and some bows in their direction. The right hand around her waist slithered toward his left, and rested under his cloak, inches from the sword.

He eyed the men, which were all tall, long limbed, fair of hair and skin, and dressed in light, but protective metal, weapons in their hands, shields upon their backs. The tallest one rode forward on a white horse, a white crest on his helm, and his sword in hand.

"Who are you, and why are you in this land?" demanded the Rider, using language even Eva could understand. His sword was lifted menacingly in their direction.

"We are travelers only wishing to pass through your land. I am Boromir, son of D-" Surreptitiously Eva pinched him, and he got the signal. "D- uh Dairuin, a lord of Gondor."

"And what of your wife?"

Boromir looked confused for a second, then glanced at Eva, finally grasping what he meant.

"My companion? She is-"

"Eva, uh daughter of Arthur and Eleanor. I am not bound to this man or any in particular."

"Then why do you ride together?"

The hand across her waist tightened, and Boromir corrected her statement with a lie, "She means as of yet. We are but betrothed at the moment."

"Where are you going? But does not matter, no one may come here without leave of the King."

"North. I cannot say, but my reason is fair and just, we meant no harm to this land, nor knew of the law which forbids our passage."

"There is no law," the Rider snapped. "But these are dark times, and it is the wish of the King that our lands are not disturbed by outsiders. Even last night we pursued a band of pillaging Orcs in the Emyn Muil, slaughtering them all."

Eva sat up straighter, her logic kicking in. "That was why our horse has been so restless lately."

"Likely," the Rider said, and suddenly lowered his sword. "Your horse has the look of one bred by the Rohirrim. Our animals are prone to having very high senses, especially in their native land."

Boromir nodded. "Yes I know, my father purchases many of your horses for interbreeding with those in our country. What is your name horse lord?"

"It is of no concern to you, I am the Third Marshall of the Mark, and commander of those in the East Wold."

"I believe this is good fortune, Éomer son of Eomund, I must speak with you then," he replied.

The Rohirrim man stared back at him in disbelief. "How do you know my name? Speak quickly!"

"I can only tell this information to you in the absence of all others."

"Very well," the Marshall mused. He waved off his soldiers. "Stand aside, but be ready at my call."

The spears lowered and his soldiers gave him unsure glances, but dissolved the circle, and rode some distance away. Éomer turned to the strange couple, observing them sternly. "I need an answer now."

"In truth, I have met you before, son of Eomund. On a visit to your land long ago, but you were only a boy and don't remember. In truth, and for sake of privacy and safety, I named myself otherwise. I am Boromir, son of the Steward Denethor of Gondor."

Éomer was obviously startled, and a bit of anxiety was written on his face. "This certainly is news. Why does the Steward send his heir alone with a woman into the wilds and dangers of Middle Earth?"

"It was my choice to do so, I am seeking Imladris. I did not start my journey with this woman. She was injured and I found her wandering in Firien Wood. Now she is my companion and responsibility."

"If I did not know better, I might call you a fool," he said in awe. "But the Dúnedain are not known for their rashness, and your name is fairly known in other lands. I suggest you keep under your newly appointed identity as you continue your journey."

"You are letting us go then?" Eva asked hopefully.

"Yes," Éomer said, slightly smiling. "But in Edoras, seek out Théodred, son of Théoden King. I will send word to him to privately secure papers for your passage through Rohan. There is a good inn in that city, excellent food and drink, comfortable lodging, it is named Dryhtsele inn."

"Thank you, farewell."

"Farewell," he answered, bowing his head slightly.

He veered his horse, and went off to join his men. Quickly they started their mounts, and were on their way out of sight.


	9. Ch 9: The Town

Chapter Nine: The Town

_"Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?"_

-William Shakespeare

_"God made the country, and man made the town."_

-William Cowper

_"Of seeming arms to make a short essay,  
Then hasten to be drunk,—the business of the day."_

-John Dryden

July 28th

The two travelers did not meet anyone else on their road, and continued on their way as they had before. Two days from their meeting with the Éored, the land began to change slightly, and they entered the Folde. Many times, they were passed by free bands of horses roaming over the greener fields. Each time, Nénar would pick up his stride, pulling at the bit in his wish to be running with them.

The day lengthened, and over the flatter land, a town could be seen in the distance. It was set upon an outcropping of weathered grassy hills, which lay beneath the shadow of the Ered Nimrais. The Great West Road ran right past perpendicular to the town and its strong wide walls rose above them as they rode up. Boromir slowed down the gelding, turning him for the entrance that could be seen. A packed dirt trail led up to a set of sturdy wooden gates, and into the midst of the large populated town.

"This is Aldburg, we rest here tonight," Boromir explained.

"Somewhere with a bed?" Eva asked hopefully.

"Yes if we able to find a place," he said.

The streets were fairly crowded with men, children, and horses all going about their different activities. The arrivals with their dusty cloaks and dark hair rode by unnoticed. Above the hustle and bustle of the city center, rose the tier of the highest hill. It was crowned with another broad fence, and what looked like a fortified area for Rohirrim soldiers. Boromir kept riveting his head back and forth, apparently searching for something as they went through the curved streets below. He stopped Nénar abruptly, dismounting and leading him toward one of the many thatched roofed buildings.

On a post, he tied the reins, and motioned for Eva to get off the horse. Quizzically she stared at him, but stepped to the ground, and peered up at the edifice. Overhead hung a sign with the words, "Scrud ac Metsung," and through the open door could be seen baskets, rope, and bolts of cloth.

"Why did we stop?" she asked him in confusion.

"So you are able to walk around Rohan, I am buying you female clothes," he said overenthusiastically.

She shook her head and grasped Nénar's rein. "Um, no thanks I'm alright. Really no need to buy a dress or anything. You've done too much for me already."

His arm came around her shoulder, and navigated her toward the open door. "Eva, do not worry. This will be of little cost to me. You must be in respectable clothing if we're traveling together."

At the door, a light haired woman accosted them, smiling widely and confidently. "Wilcume."

"I am sorry; we do not speak your language. Do you know the Common Tongue?" he asked.

"Yes. Come in please, strangers. I am Lufa. How may I be of help?"

"I wish to buy a set of clothes," Eva said, glancing at Boromir uncertainly.

The barest nod reassured her, and he added, "We lost my lady's things when our other horse broke away on our route. It's a loss, but such things are replaceable."

"Travelers then?" the woman said. "I shall work quickly. It will be fastest to hem something already I have sewn."

Boromir disjoined himself from Eva, and pulled the shop woman aside. He pressed something into her hand, and whispered inaudibly.

"Yes, of course," Lufa said brightly, and gripped Eva's arm. "Milady, I have some very nice things you'll like. Come to the back, we'll fit them for you."

The Man turned for the door and said, "I shall return later."

.-.-.-.

"Lower your left arm a little. Turn towards me, good."

Eva sighed as she followed the woman's instructions yet again. The shoulder of the dress was immediately attacked with a needle, Lufa's daughter Sifleda working fast and neat. The better part of two hours, she had stood there, trying on different things. They'd then be sewn and fitted while she was still wearing them and laid aside.

"You are done," Sifleda said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

"Completely," Lufa added from her seat in the corner.

From her lap, she held up Eva's cloak, which she'd hemmed, and embroidered with small white stars along the edges. It seemed a lot cleaner too.

"It's beautiful," Eva said, admiring it.

"Indeed," Lufa agreed, folding it carefully. "We'll go wrap these for you. You will want privacy."

When they were gone, Eva carefully took off the dress and shift, putting them on a nearby chair. She felt slightly confined when her pants, shirt, boots, and cloak were finally on again, and walked awkwardly back to the main shop area. Boromir had returned, and was examining some of her new clothes on the counter. He met her with a grin as she put down the items that had been in the back room with her. Sifleda ignored her, and pointed out some things about the dress.

"These are strong but soft," he mused. "That is good."

"Especially for your wedding night," Lufa said, slapping the table with a hand. "Hah!"

Eva went slightly red and Sifleda glowered to herself.

"Two shifts, a dress, a tunic, adjusted cloak, under-things, bag, and travel blanket all for the lady," Lufa said.

She folded almost everything into a clean yard of cloth, and handed the cloak and wrapped items to Eva. Boromir gave his thanks, put coins in front of the woman, and pulled his companion away. Happy gasps followed them out the door. It wasn't necessary to look back to know that the Gondorian had handed them extra gold.

.-.-.-.

Her back slid lower against the tub, immersing her farther into the water. Her body slightly stung from the soap lye, and the scrubbing she'd done to remove a week's accumulation of dirt. For nearly an hour, she'd sat in the warm water, mulling over what had been left far behind and the encounter at the shop several hours earlier.

Knocking suddenly issued from the door, and was followed by the voice of an agitated Boromir, "Eva, have you been in there long enough?"

"No," she replied, and heard him groan. "But I'm getting out anyway."

"Thank you."

Carefully she stood up in the tub, and wrung the water out of her hair. It tumbled halfway down her back as she reached for a large towel provided by the Gerestan Inn. They were staying there for the night before heading for Edoras in the morning. Tightly she wound it around her chest, and it brushed her knees as she opened the bathroom door. Boromir lifted his head in surprise, and stared at her from his spot from on his bed.

"I would have granted more time if you'd requested it."

Eva shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and picking up a comb, began to use it in front of a mirror on the wall. He went past her into the bathroom, and shut the door. Several times the comb snagged in her hair, and she clenched her teeth in pain to work it through. When it was finally smooth, she was able to braid it, and reached for her clothes to get dressed. She was just finishing when Boromir came out of the bathroom. Finished too, he went to the bureau and wistfully put his cloak, chain mail and sword behind their travel belongings.

"Good idea," Eva said, at seeing the expression on his face.

"Let's see," he said, seeing that she was wearing her new clothes. She twirled a bit, and he nodded. "Those needlewomen did a good job."

Her hands smoothed over the soft green fabric the dress was made of, and over the golden flowering embroidery that flowed from under the neckline to every edge, even those on the trailing sleeves past her fingertips. A braided leather belt settled on her waist, and tapered down into a single stream of leather down the middle. The collar opened to her shoulders and scooped into a v right above her thorax.

His eyes darted to the high arching window. "It's about dinnertime. Hungry?"

They entered the oversized common room of the inn from the main stair, but no one seemed to notice the newcomers. Several windows were open and the fireplace sat empty due to the multitude of people in the room. Various folk were scattered among the tables and stools, many young and old people from around the town. Even Rohirrim soldiers had several tables to themselves, sitting about with mugs and women, and still clad in their underlying military garments. Here and there, a hilt could be seen gleaming in the dimness of the lanterns and candles. Eva and Boromir surreptitiously took a table near the bar, and immediately were set upon by the innkeeper's wife.

"Ah the new guests! Have any dinner requests?"

"You have a good memory, with all these people…" Eva said.

The woman shook her head. "This inn isn't big enough to lodge all of them. We're the favorite for the local folk, especially the Éored men." She threw a thumb over her shoulder in the soldiers' direction as they broke out into a bawdy song. "Get dozens of them in here right after a few successful Orc raids, celebrating their 'victory'. Keep down a lot of brew, and keep coughing up the coins. They're good people, but get too rough after awhile; I'd stay clear of them tonight."

"We appreciate the warning," Boromir said. "We'll take something to eat now." 

The woman eyed them over for a second and returned shortly thereafter, bearing food and drink. She left them at their table without offering explanation, but Boromir dug into it. Tentatively Eva picked up her fork and poked at the seemingly familiar food. It looked like a darker version of chicken, served alongside fruit and bread. Her companion had an identical setting, except his drink seemed to be beer, and she guessed the purplish stuff in hers was wine.

"Something wrong?" asked Boromir from across the table.

She met his concerned eyes, and shook her head. "Nope."

"Are you sure? I can send it back-"

"It's fine," she interrupted, and stuffed a forkful in her mouth. "See?"

During dinner, their table was joined by a couple, young bachelor, and old man, who had dubbed their table open and friendly. They chattered amongst themselves for a long time after their meal was over, the topics ranging from news to how crops were faring this season. Eva was much more interested in them than Boromir, and was involved in their conversation. Of course, they were fed the traveler's cover story, and she found out more about their land than she had somehow known before. She even uncovered where the floods came mid-season and how much a stack of hay would go for. Occasionally the songs or dancing from some drunken group would interrupt them, but cheerfully they'd watch it until it was over or lost momentum.

By nine o'clock, only the couple was left, and each pair lapsed into silence. She happened to perceive Boromir rubbing a hand across his forehead, and lightly pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You okay?" she said in a low voice.

"Yes. I just have a bit of a headache, and need some rest." He gave her a small but reassuring smile, then began to get up. "I'm going to sleep for a while upstairs. Are you staying here?"

"I'll be up later and give you some room. I wanted to spend some time with Nénar before bed. Good night."

"Good night," he said shortly.

He peeked past her shoulder at the man and woman, and then worriedly turned back to her. It was obvious their company still disbelieved their story. Abruptly he kissed her forehead, and said a little too loudly, "Don't be long."

Astonished, she watched him walk away, then glanced back at the table. Not wanting to talk with them anymore, she got up too and headed for the inn's stable. Paths wound straight from the street and inn's front door to the stable that stood next to it. She passed horses tethered outside, and entered the long spacious stall area where guest's horses were kept.

Nénar was kept in one near the door, and he was turning around restlessly when she came to him. His coat was well brushed and had plenty of essentials, but he clearly needed some loving attention. Eagerly he stretched out his head as he saw her, and tugged gently on her clothes, searching for a goody or two.

"You're not a real warhorse are you?" she whispered, rubbing his forehead. He shifted around once more, making her feel sorry for him.

Swiftly she took his lead rope from the stall door, and tied it to his halter so she could lead him out. Obediently, he followed her out to the grass in front of the stable. She stopped and let him trot around a bit on the lead rope, his freedom attracting envious horses nearby, who twitched their tails. Ten minutes later, the racket indoors seemed to grow significantly, causing the gelding to halt, his ears pricked toward the path.

"Shhh," she said soothingly.

Purposely she let the rope slip from her hands, and put a hand securely on his halter instead. Simultaneously, a pair of men came from around the corner, talking too loudly. They stood aside two grey horses that were decked in identical equestrian equipment, and untied them. The older man watched his friend attempt to climb his horse, then immediately fall off. He let out a bellowing laugh, causing his horse to shy and back away.

"Come on you, wicked boy," he croaked, and yanked on his horse's rein.

His friend stood up with some trouble, then looked at him. "Go and laugh your head off. I'm not sure I can remember how to ride this stupid thing."

"Me either," said the older man, and both broke out into obnoxious laughter.

Eva rolled her eyes, and started for the barn with her horse. _I am not going to stand here and listen to these annoying-_

"Hey look there," one of them said. "That's that pretty lass that was sitting with all those men."

She stopped in her tracks, and darted her eyes concernedly around the yard. There weren't any other people.

"She's out playing with her pony."

"Here wench," he called mockingly. "Come sit by me."

She tried to turn away, but Nénar would not move. The younger man grinned at his friend stupidly and pulled him in her direction.

"Nénar," she commanded, tugging on his halter.

They snatched at Eva, the gelding reared, breaking from her grasp and bolting from the yard. Her head hit the ground, and she felt the man shift above her, her arms weighted down at her sides. Immediately she screamed, kneeing him in the crotch, and poking his eyes with her newly freed hand. He bent in two and was pushed over ashis captivedashed for the inn. The other man tripped over himself in bewilderment and she made it to the door.

.-.-.-.

Her vision was blank and unseeing as she stared intently at the wall, trying to escape from everything at that moment. The hard wood of the chair pressed into her back as she shrunk into it. She failed in her attempt to ignore the voices at the doorway of her inn bedroom.

"Madam," Boromir said to someone in the hall. "I do not need to hear the story again. I believe you have an inn to run, please return to it and leave us. I will take care of her." The door closed, and he walked toward Eva, shaking his head. "If I had any less patience for women, I would have handed that prying gossip what she has coming."

Eva lifted her head, a solemn dread in her eyes. "I don't expect you to be tolerant of me, but I'd like you to know I feel awful already."

Her head turned back to wall, and for a tense moment, felt his observant gaze. A warm comforting hand was laid on her shoulder.

"It was not your fault the horse was lost. The folly of loose men should not be taken to heart, do not blame yourself."

"It's not just that-. What do you think? "

"My advice Evelyn, you are a strong, stubborn, exquisite, yet presumptuous woman. You should carry yourself like it, even with troubles that may be put in your path."

July 29th

The next morning, Boromir woke fairly late, and sat up in his bed. Wiping the tiredness from his eyes, he glanced over his room. He saw Eva sitting next to the window, and watched her for a moment. The sunlight poured in over her hair, and lit up her skin, which was tan and freckled already from the days of travel. She finally noticed him too, and greeted him with a smile, motioning to the table in front of her. With evident surprise, the Man took in the small assortment of food and drink on the flat surface.

"Breakfast," she said cheerfully. "Now chop, chop, before it gets colder. It was nice of the innkeeper to send it up to us."

Boromir grimaced. "More likely he wishes for us to stay quiet and leave as soon as possible."

Agitatedly he swung his legs from under the covers, and pulled on his tunic as he walked over to the table. He picked up a full plate, then sat down in the chair opposite of her.

"Any word of the horse?"

She shook her head. "No. They had a few people from the Rohirrim searching for him. They think he got out the city gate to the fields."

"That's wonderful," he said bitterly, and bit into a biscuit. "We'll be walking to Edoras if they don't find him by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she asked confusedly.

He glanced at her, then returned to his food. "We're waiting for Nénar one day, or going by foot."

* * *

There you go, a much longer chapter! Sorry about the Rohirric everyone, the names are a quick conjure of what I need.

Rohirric definitions:

-Scrud ac Metsung (Store name): "Clothing and Supplies"

-Wilcume (Lufa's greeting): Welcome

-Gerestan (Inn name): to rest (the original word is spelled: Ge-restan)


	10. Ch 10: Footsteps on the Hill

Chapter Ten: Footsteps on the Hill

"England's sun was slowly setting o'er the hill-tops far away,  
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day;  
And its last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair,—  
He with footsteps slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;  
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she with lips so cold and white,"

-Rose Hartwick Thorpe

"Through thick and thin, both over hill and plain."

- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas

July 30th:

No trace of Nénar was found within the day. It was with heavy hearts the travelers continued on their way, headed for Edoras. Some odd pacing was necessary for Eva to keep in stride with Boromir. Her bag swayed lightly with her steps, and was not really a burden. Her clothes and blanket were rolled up tightly within it, and saved enough room for her share of rations. Whenever she might stumble over her dress or the rocky soil, Boromir would shoulder his shield, and offer her help. She never accepted an extra hand though. Over hill and plain they continued west, seeming like the journey before Aldburg. Except it was only the two of them now.

August 1st:

They passed into a much wider plain as the sun began to rise. It had been only an hour's travel from their last rest stop to where they were presently. From a rocky hill it was possible to see a city perched on a tiered hill. It was set about with sturdy walls, and gold glimmered at the highest possible point.

"Edoras," Boromir said with relief.

"Shouldn't we have made it sooner? Or was the night travel necessary?" Eva asked.

"If truth be told, I am not very good with maps."

"Just don't lose out way and I won't care." Shouldering her bag, she continued to trudge on.

Though the city could be seen quite clearly, it took at least another half hour to reach the city walls.

"Aye yai yai," she moaned. "That was too long of a tenuous walk this early in the morning."

The city gates stood open, its high arching posts carved against the pink sky of the still rising sun. They were stopped by two guards posted at either side of the entrance.

"Hwæt eart þu?" one asked.

Both travelers made no sign of comprehension and stayed motionless.

"I demand to know who you are," one guard finally said in Westron.

"I am Boromir son of De- Dairuin. This is my betrothed, Evelyn daughter of-"

"-Arthur," she finished. "We are seeking the Dryhtsele Inn and Théodred son of Théoden on behalf of Éomer, Third Marshall of the Mark.

"Why do your guard the gates against us?" Boromir asked impatiently. "It is my belief that we have the right to enter this city."

"It is the wish of Théodred that the city by guarded against possible spies and the King's command that all comings and goings of strangers are watched."

"Very well, you have noted we are here. May we pass?"

The guard excused them with permission, and also gave them instructions for reaching their destination. Edoras opened before them as they entered, seeming very close in appearance to Aldburg. The streets were noticeably empty, and much wider and cobbled here. Some wandering was necessary before they finally came to what they'd been searching for.

At the berth of the highest hill point, their street swerved past a particularly large stone building. It lay close to the broadest stone fence, where beyond it a stately hall with a thatched roof of gold could be seen. They went into the building, passing beneath a sign marked, "Dryhtsele Inn, by Egric Greybeard." A spacious lobby-like room drew them toward the wall, where a man lay asleep.

"Excuse me," Boromir said, tapping the wood lightly with a knuckle.

The man jolted awake, and immediately fell out of his chair. A hand appeared over the desk's edge as he pulled himself up again, and examined them sheepishly.

"Are you alright?" Eva exclaimed.

"Yes," the wizened little man said eagerly. "How may I help you?"

"We would like a room," Boromir requested.

"Two or one?" he asked, an all knowing smile on his face.

"One with two beds preferably."

"I think we have room," the man said, turning around to an ajar nearby door. "Wulwina! Check for a room with two beds." A muffled reply was heard in the distance. "What?" yelled the man. Another inaudible answer was heard. "What?"

Light hurrying footsteps sounded from the room beyond as a woman scrambled into the entrance hall.

"Egric, don't yell, you'll wake up the guests. I was saying that we have one open _and_ clean room, but it only has one bed."

He groaned. "How big? Double occupancy or single?"

"It's a double," the woman answered, and studied the new arrivals.

"That's fine," Boromir said, and elbowed Eva when she tried to comment.

The room was much nicer than their former one at the other inn. It had a queen sized bed set with white sheets and a patchwork quilt, the furniture was made of light worn wood, the rug depicted a white running horse, and everything was toned in the colors of autumn. Fortunately it was one of the nicer rooms available at the inn. Eva was grateful for being able to have a bed again. Exhausted from the lack of good sleep, she dressed down to her shift right there in front of Boromir, and rolled onto the bed's left side.

After that initial shock, he grinned. "Nap, good idea."

Carefully he took almost everything and laid it on a nearby chair, but Eva prevented him from removing his linen undershirt.

"No, if you're going to sleep with me, you're wearing a shirt."

"In that event, I would hope neither of us would be wearing anything."

"Yuck," Eva laughed, swinging a pillow at him.

Repeatedly she socked him with it, until he threw his hands up in defeat.

"I surrender," he gasped.

She dropped the pillow in mercy, but suddenly he pounced at her.

He flattened her on the bed, and said in a low voice, "I get this side."

Springing over her, he landed on the left side of the bed.

She shook her head, and turned over onto her side. "Have a good sleep Boromir."

.-.-.-.

The sound of several voices wafted up the stairs as Eva made her way to the first floor of the inn. It was around noon, and she had woken up to find Boromir still asleep. The nap had refreshed her, but also made her extremely hungry. It was her hope that the inn would have something decent to eat. Her mind wandering was interrupted near the bottom of the stairs, as two things abruptly collided with her.

The steps met her rear-side, and she sat up in wonder to see what had caused that. Sprawled on the floor was a pair of children, a boy and girl with curly blond locks, and big green eyes that were staring at her in a terrified ways. Both seemed to be about seven years old, and were so identical in appearance, that she assumed they must be twins.

"Lady, we're sorry," the boy squeaked, and got to his feet.

"It's okay," she said, smiling reassuringly.

"Really?" the girl said warily. "Cause mother and grandmother would be mad if we were bumping people again."

She had a slight inkling of who they were talking about, but said anyway, "Who are your mother and grandmother?"

"Wulfwyn and Wulwina. Grandfather Egric owns the inn."

"I am Aldhelm," the boy answered proudly, then pointed to his sister. "Mildrythe."

"Nice to meet you," she said, still smiling. "Do you know where the inn serves food?"

"Aye," Mildrythe peeped, and put her small hand in hers. "I'll show you."

The twins led her hand in hand to what was obviously the common room/ dining area. The few people at the tables smiled as them, amused to see the children and woman. A woman was standing behind the bar cleaning a cup, and looked up when she came in with them. She had light hair and so sternly gazed with similar green eyes that it was obvious she was their mother. Eva took a seat and the woman snatched the backs of the sibling's clothes before they could run from her.

"Aldhelm, Mildrythe, ne ge-lettan firas," Wulfwyn said with a tone that was easily discerned as anger.

"Wē gþ god," they answered wistfully.

She decided to intervene for the children. "I'm fine, they couldn't possible annoy me."

The woman regarded her doubtfully, but sighed. "No harm done that I can tell."

The children grinned at Eva gratefully, and she winked knowingly at them. Aldhelm dashed off, but Mildrythe plopped onto the stool beside her.

"What's your name?"

"Eva," she answered.

"Where are you going?"

"Out northwest."

"I wish I could go, mother never let's me go anywhere, even when the soldiers take us up on their horses. My Uncle gets to go everywhere, he is a soldier in the Rohirrim. He gets to go north where all the fun places are. North is where the elves are, maybe you'll see them, I would like to see them, they sound sparkly and pretty and have so many exciting adventures. Grandmother tells me many bedtime stories about elves, she is smart but has never seen an elf either. Mother doesn't like it when grandmother tells me that, she says it's foolish. How are you going there?"

"I was riding a horse before, but he broke loose and was lost. So I have to go by foot," briefly she ordered food from the woman behind the counter, and watched her walk off before turning back to the girl.

"Poor horsie. I wish I had one, but mother says that I'm not old enough. She makes me ride Pepper my pony all the time. I love him but I am a big girl, I want to ride a horse like a real shield-maiden. When I'm old I will let my children do anything they want because I'll be a woman with a big sword and no one will tell me what to do. I'll have a big horse too, that is fast as the wind and white as Simbelmynë and the Mearas of the King. What was your horse's name?"

"Nénar."

"Oo that's a pretty name."

Eva nodded, and they were interrupted by Wulwina as she placed a plate in front of her.

Mildrythe didn't bother to notice her grandmother. "Do you have any children like me? Do they get to go with you?"

"No, I don't have any children."

"Wulwina's eyebrow went up. "No children yet? With a face like yours and a man like that?"

"Huh?"

"The one you signed in here with. He is a fine specimen. I'd expect the tow of you would have babies all over the place in a few years."

She colored slightly with understanding. "We're uh- not uh- married- yet."

Wulfwyn appeared behind Wulwina, having overheard the conversation. "Mother! Honestly!" She dragged the older woman away.

.-.-.-.

Boromir woke up a while after Eva, and became worried when he saw the spot next to him was empty. The sheets crumpled on that side were proof she's been there, but her clothes and boots on the chair were gone.

_She must be down in the inn_

That thought did nothing to alleviate his concern. Quickly he got out of bed and put on his clothes, tucking in the dagger from his father that he always wore beneath his vestment. His sword and shield were left behind uselessly as he made his way to the stairs. In the entrance hall he could hear voices coming from beyond the double doors.

Pushing them open, he found himself in what must be the common room/ dining area. There were a dozen or so people scattered amongst the tables. Up at the bar were Eva and an unknown little girl, sitting on stools while they ate and talked together. Boromir took the empty stool on his companion's left side. It took a minute for her to realize he was there, and both females turned in his direction.

"You're up now too," she said, sounding pleased.

"Why did you leave? I was worried," he said in a low voice.

"This is a friendly inn, nothing can happen to me here-"

"Remember what happened."

"I know," she said with a hint of spite. "But I can take care of myself."

"Can you?"

It occurred to her that Mildrythe was sitting very close and could tell the girl was listening intently. "We'll talk about this later." She resumed eating her lunch.

"Who is he?" Mildrythe whispered.

"He's my special friend," she explained carefully.

Wulwina suddenly appeared behind the bar. "Ha! He's more than just your friend!"

Wulfwyn appeared again too. "Mother!"

The woman ignored her, grabbed a cup, and then strolled away, Wulfwyn on her tail.

Mildrythe rolled her eyes and stared at Eva expectantly. "What is his name?"

.-.-.-.

"That child asked too many questions," Boromir grumbled.

"She's just a little girl, she was curious."

"You can not let your guard down like that."

Her foot kicked a pebble along the road they were walking on. "I can take care of myself. I don't see why you're so cranky.":

"I w as concerned, I'm sorry-"

"Forget it. What are we trying to find again?

"Faran Hedærn. Lady Wulwina said it was somewhere along this way."

"We're so sure she's right?" Eva mumbled.

"No, but likely her memory is in tact, though her mind may not be in the best condition."

Instantly she pointed out a sign she caught sight of that read, "Faran Hedærn."

* * *

Rohirric Translations:

Hwæt eart þu? (The guard's question): Who are you?

Ne ge-lettan firas (Wulfwyn's reprimand): Do not hinder people.

Wē gþ god. (Twin's protest): We are good.

Faran Hedærn: HEH NOT TELLING YOU! Wait until the next chapter…


	11. Ch 11: Path and Guide

Chapter Eleven: Path and Guide

_"Courage, brother! do not stumble,  
Though thy path be dark as night;  
There's a star to guide the humble."_

-Norman Macleod

_"Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend."_

-Alexander Pope

- - -

Instantly she pointed out a sign that read, "Faran Hedærn."

"What is this place?" she asked as they entered.

"They sell maps and such," he answered in a distant voice.

The room was illuminated by the bright sunlight coming through the wide shop windows. Dust streamed through the air and there was a musty feeling all around. Squares and scrolls of parchment and paper, inks, quills were neatly spread on varying surfaces throughout. A middle aged man stood behind one of the counters and he jumped to attention as they approached.

"Gea?" He immediately realized that they did not speak his language. "How may I help you?"

Eva wandered away as Boromir told the man what he needed. "I'm heading north to Eriador; I need a map of the Old South Road and the Greyflood."

The man scratched his head. "There's a strange request, not sure I have anything like that. Most folk stay south of Isengard or in the West Folde." He strode to a shelf next to the counter and shuffled through it for a few moments. Turning back to his customer, he shook his head. "Nothing back here. It might be in with the other ones somewhere over there."

In the farthest corner of the store, he pointed to a group of tables and shelves that held stacks of maps. "It would be in there, or we don't have what you want."

The two came out of the shop two hours later, having thoroughly searched in the pile. They'd come up with nothing. Boromir seemed very disappointed, his eyes fixed on rooftops far away in a stare.

"What's wrong?"

Instantly he snapped out of it and glanced at her. "Oh- We must locate a map with that path. I'm afraid we shall be lost or in Edoras for a while if we do not."

"Great," she mumbled.

She let out a deep sigh in distress and continued to trudge beside him as they headed back to the inn.

August 2nd:

The next day was long and boring as they spent the hours going from shop to shop, scouting for the elusive guide for the Old South Road. One of the last places they entered was "Bocfore." It was a bookshop filled with dozens of leather-bound texts, and a cheery storekeeper. It was very hard for him to pull her out of there. Even though half of the books were in Rohirric, she found them enthralling. She was extremely fond of books, ad he took note of it before dragging her away.

August 3rd:

"Wake up," Boromir urged again. "We must go."

Eva grabbed another pillow and stuffed it over her head. It drowned him out mostly as he stood next to the bed, trying to get her up.

"No, no, no. I'm too tired from yesterday," she groaned.

"Fine, sleep then."

She heard his footsteps walk from the bed and the door slam shut. With a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes. About an hour later, she woke from sleep and stumbled downstairs. Wulfwyn was already in the common room, and was sitting with Mildrythe, a middle-aged lady, and young woman in a cluster of chairs. All were knitting in various yarns, while Aldhelm and another unknown boy scampered around their chairs, playing with wooden toy swords.

"Morning Eva," Mildrythe squeaked, dropping her knitting needles.

Wulfwyn disapprovingly handed them back to her daughter, but greeted Eva with a smile. "Your lord left nearly an hour ago on an errand."

"I knew, thank you."

She slouched into the empty seat nearest them, and Wulfwyn regarded her oddly. "You seem exhausted."

"Yeah, I went everywhere yesterday."

"Would you care to join us?" the youngest woman asked, and beamed when she nodded heedlessly. "I am Cynuise, this is my mother Eabæ."

Cynuise picked up a started pair of knitting needles and handed them to her.

_Uh oh, I can't knit._

Eva accepted them politely and eyes the other female's deftly clicking needles. A lighthearted discussion picked up where it had left off. She joined in where she could, while trying to pay attention to her stitches, and furtively copy the movements of others. Numerous times she had to redo a stitch or two, and Mildrythe noticed her fumbling. Covertly she edged toward her and worked slower, so she could follow.

_It's going to be a long afternoon._

By the time she was halfway through her knitting (which was quickly becoming a knotty scarf) the three women had started on their third items. She was offered some sort of flat sandwich and tea when she got up to leave, and was told to keep the knitting needles to finish her "scarf."

"Are you sure?" she asked Cynuise.

The woman pressed them into her hand, and leaned closer to whisper. "It was nice Mildrythe helped, but practice makes best."

"Thanks," she replied with some embarrassment.

.-.-.-.

On returning to her room, she laid the knitting items at the bottom of her traveling bag. A few hours later Boromir returned to the inn and climbed the steps to his room, finally collapsing on a chair. Immediately Eva came in after him, having seen him while she was downstairs. He was sprawled on the chair and lifted his head to acknowledge her, anxiety and weariness writ in his face.

"Long day?" she asked with concern.

The barest nod affirmed her question. "It takes time to communicate with the smaller storekeepers. Most of them speak Rohirric, and the Faran Hedærn man said they'd likely have the map."

"What if they don't?"

His head dropped slightly. "Then we shall find the lord Theo-ded or who ever. I will have reason enough to bang on Meduseld's door for him."

"Good plan, but he was supposed to show up here."

Evenings at the Dryhtsele Inn were considerably different from the daytime. The sun called only regular patrons and guests to its doors, and a familial atmosphere. The night gathered everyone, including townspeople and soldiers. In the entrance hall and dining area people would pack in, seeking the hearty ale and food that could be found there. A continuous buzz of voices and saucy smells of food were in the air as Eva and Boromir dined like they normally did every night. Both were sitting up at the bar, where Egric and Wulwina were dispensing orders. A weather beaten soldier was talking away with Boromir about swords, and Eva was in conversation with her knitting partner, Cynuise, from earlier. The young woman's husband was on a stool nearby, listening to their conversing with boredom, and a beer in his hand. Surreptitiously he pulled Cynuise aside and the young woman gave her a humiliated smile.

"I am sorry, my husband needs me."

Understanding, she waved goodbye to her and ordered tea from Wulwina then fixed her eyes on the wall. Two minutes later the empty stool next to her was claimed. It was a man about Boromir's age, whom glanced at her, then ordered a drink from Egric.

"Sir, the usual."

The innkeeper popped open a bottle from under the counter and handed it to him before totting off to other customers. Several minutes later Wulwina returned, and placed a hot mug of tea in front of her.

"You haven't tried this one. It just came in from the Bileofa market."

She took a sip, giving her a sign of approval, and Wulwina strutted away. As she lifted the mug again, the man next to her caught her attention. He was shaking his fair-haired head with amusement as he watched Wulwina march up to Egric and chirp about the glorious new tea _she _had chosen. He met Eva's eye as he felt her observation, and lifted a finger in the old couple's direction.

"I must admire them, energetic and very much in love through the withering years."

"I agree."

Carefully he studied her. "You are a regular? I've never seen you here before."

"I am a guest in the inn."

"Then I shall see you here often, for normally I am here every night. Unless you're staying only a short while."

"Only as long as I need to," she said reassuringly.

Some uncertainty flitted across his face. "For what?"

The sound of drumming fingers suddenly could be heard, and she quickly looked at Boromir. He shot her a stealthy yet warning glance, which made her turn back to the man with a smile.

"For certain needs that must be met."

"Be secretive," he replied with a smirk. "If it means you're here longer, I would considerably hope that you have rotten luck finding what you need."

One last sip finished off his drink, and he rose from the bar to get up.

"I did not get your name," he said, staring down at her.

"Eva," she snipped. "And yours?"

"Théodred," he answered.

* * *

Rohirric Translations: 

-Faran Hedærn(Store name): "travel storeroom."

-Gea? (Shop-keeper's question): "Yes?"

Bocfore (Store name): "book, for/ in place of."

Bileofa (Market name): "food".


	12. Ch 12: Men of the Fields

.For Mom, Happy Birthday!

Chapter Twelve: Men of the Fields

_"Men in great place are thrice servants,_

_—servants of the sovereign or state,_

_servants of fame, and servants of business."_

-Francis Bacon

_"Such and so various are the tastes of men."_

-Mark Akenside

_"Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting;  
So were it with me if forgetting could be willed.  
Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring,  
Tell it to forget the source that keeps it filled."_  
-George Meredith

- - -

**(August 3rd continued…)**

"Théodred," he answered.

Eva heard a mug clunk next to her and the sound of Boromir choking.

"Wait," she said, staying the man from leaving. "I must talk to you."

Boromir coughed and flanked her side, glaring at the other man. "Indeed. What sort of trick are you playing?"

"None," Théodred said lightly. "I only wished to know the lady better."

"There is certainly no need for that," he growled, stepping toward him. "We have waited enough days for promised assistance-"

"Thank you," Eva interrupted, putting a hand back to stay him. "For coming here."

"You are welcome. But for now we are worn. I shall return tomorrow morning. It was pleasant to meet you Lady Eva, good night."

Briefly, he pressed his mouth to her hand and gave Boromir a curt nod before walking away,

"Don't be so confrontational," she whispered to him.

"I can't promise that," he warned.

She noticed a hand where his sword would normally be and the scent of alcohol was strong. It was a good thing his sword was all the way upstairs.

.-.-.-.

Boromir mumbled as he pulled off his boots, while Eva watched him from her perch on the bed.

"What are you going on about?" she said with amusement.

"That-, irritating Rohirrim-"

"I didn't find him revolting."

He gave her a sickened scowl. "Obviously. He thoroughly charmed you.'

Embarrassed, she averted her eyes. 'He didn't.'

He didn't believe her. "I perceived that pleased expression on your face when he kissed your hand."

"Honestly," she said dejectedly, then stared at him with shock. "You're jealous!"

"Am not," he argued. The last boot was flung off and he sat on the bed in her direction. "It is not good for my 'future wife' to be panting over another man."

"For the sons of two powerful countries, I would expect you two to get along with one another."

"I'm afraid my dislike comes before patriotism."

"You're awfully quick to judge people," she said, disenchanted. "From what I've seen, I think you also tend to scorn people more often than not."

Her gaze met his searchingly, as if asking him what he thought of her. She felt the need to say this to him, especially since they were traveling together, and was unsure if harbored some pestilent feelings toward her. He quickly caught the meaning behind this and what she was trying to say.

"Perhaps, but I stand by my dealings and reasoning. I judge and purport with him in experience, and do not seek to gainsay or understand his true quality," he said, and gained a slight smirk. "My mind is slackened from the evening; therefore I do not wish to grasp this issue further. I am enabled to say this,though debted to my night's drink. I was not wholly daft, I was right to determine you as a good loyal hearted woman."

"Thanks, but opinionated or not, with Théodred it didn't help that you were drunk."

"Probably."

She rolled her eyes and pulled the covers up, closing her eyes.

"Um,' he muttered.

One eye opened and looked at him. "What?"

"Good night, _Lady_ Eva."

"Yes, you are drunk," she laughed.

**August 4th **

The dark curtain of hair across her back quickly disintegrated into a single braid as her finger twisted through it. From her spot on the chair, she reached behind for the ribbon she'd laid on a table. Her hand met Boromir's as she fumbled for it and acknowledged him as he handed it over.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

As she tied off the braid, he lowered his head. "I apologize for yesterday. I should not have been so critical."

"It's all right," she said, and gave him a small smile.

They went downstairs and were surprisingly the only ones there, Wulwina free to place food in front of each as they sat down. In the middle of their meal, the double doors swung open to admit Théodred. He took a seat at their table, enthusiastically greeting both of them. The sun's early rays splayed across the tables and their faces, which seemed to show both men in better spirits. Wulwina instantly appeared at their tableside to take an order, but was sent away. Théodred happened to have eaten already and preferred not to have a third party eavesdropping or intruding.

"I will be brief," he started, addressing them both. 

"We received instruction to seek you out. How can you help us?"

He gave them a knowing look. "Indeed, but you are not supposed to be here are you? The real question should be, how can you help me?" It was a jest for him, but noticing the irritation growing on the other man's face, he added quickly, "I shall provide assistance; your travel through Rohan has not been easy. I received word from Éomer that he sojourned you on the Great West Road, the lady was nigh assailed in Aldburg, and your horse lost. If you were not so patient and the people of Eva's land not so sturdy, relations could become quite tense between our countries."

Boromir seemed cautious. "Why would that be the result of two insignificant travelers-"

"As you and I are fully aware, the son of Denethor and wherever he is, whoever he may be with, the title is much more important than insignificance. Pride has not prevented your seeking me, now name what you need."

Seeing Boromir's hesitation and fearing he might try to back out in a tight spot, she elbowed him.

He glanced at her, then reluctantly started again. "It has been impossible to find a map with the Old South Road plotted through the Gap of Rohan. Our travel has not been made easier with the loss of our horse."

"It may take some time to find a map with that route on it, but I personally will search the royal archives and have a copy made. As for your horse, the men responsible for spooking him were listed beneath the Third Marshall's Éored and promptly were disciplined. I will let you have a horse from among my stock in payment."

"Thank you," Eva answered.

"You will not hear from me until I have what you need. Our interactions should be minimal in order to draw the least attention, for I am at risk in providing to foreigners, even the son of an ally. Farewell."

.-.-.-.

Although he said otherwise, it was clear Boromir had no intention of completely relying on Théodred for help. Every morning he would apologize to her, then spend ninety percent of the day in the village. Noticing her boredom, the women of Dryhtsele Inn initiated her into their sewing circle (which she wasn't an expert at, but was good enough with a needle to pass). It was only fun because of the well-meaning but amusing women in it. The rest of the time was spent either in the Bocfore bookshop she's spotted a few days ago, or wandering around Edoras.

**August 7**

The sun hung low in the sky as she walked along the crowded street beneath Meduseld's shadow in the late afternoon. As she passed its steps, a voice suddenly stood out to her in the din of people. "Lady Eva!" it called and she curiously searched for the owner. Immediately she recognized the tall blond haired man issuing from the steps of the Golden Hall, his eyes fixed on her as he descended. At reaching the street level, he bowed slightly and nearly smiled.

"It is good to meet you again."

"You too, Éomer," she replied enthusiastically.

"I'm glad you reached Edoras without fault, except for your horse. I heard about the trouble with my soldiers and went to repair the harm they did, but both of you were gone."

She nodded. "Boromir decided we couldn't wait around for our mount to be recovered."

"I understand," he said, and rubbed his chin with one hand. "Where are you staying?"

"Dryhtsele, and I'm glad we took your advice."

"Yes, they are very hospitable people and it does not hurt that their ale is the best in the Folde."

"I was on my way there just now," she said.

"I have not been there for awhile," he said regretfully, then studied her carefully. "May I accompany you there?"

"Sure."

In the inn, they took seats at a corner table of the common room and Wulwina came over quickly. She ogled the man Eva was sitting across from, then turned to her with a smirk.

"You find favor with handsome prestigious company milady," she chuckled.

"God æfen, Wulwina," Éomer said with a hint of sarcasm.

"God æfen eft, Leof Éomer.' she echoed, and strolled off.

He motioned after her, and said in a low voice, "Be careful of that one. She is a sweet and old, but too observant and talkative for her own good."

"I believe you," she said with a laugh.

They talked amicably from then on, but with some reservation during dinner. The conversation was interrupted by Boromir, who returned and spotted them.

"Greetings horse-lord," he said amusedly, and took the chair next to Eva. "Good evening my lady."

"And where have you been all day?" she asked.

"Still searching, but I found the most interesting arms shop."

Éomer perked with interest. "Where?"

"The Fyrd Lecgan?"

"Yes that is it. I usually pick up an item or two every month. Did you happen to see the whetting stones?"

"Of course, they were of-"

Knowing where this conversation was headed, Eva rose from the table. Both men stared at her.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I'd prefer to be somewhere else while men talk about swords."

.-.-.-.

A far off voice sounded in Eva's ears, half pulling her out of sleep. She knew it was Boromir's voice and rolled over towards the inside of the bed to avoid him getting her up. The voice became louder and she realized that he was still in bed right next to her. Through half blurred eyes, she saw he was still asleep.

"Seek…Imladris…Halfling… I'm coming," he mumbled unconsciously. "Brother…I must go…"

Knowing he was dreaming, she flipped over and pushed her head further into the pillow to sleep. When she was snoozing again, she did not see him sweat and shudder until he finally snapped awake. His memory took several moments to return from the deep abyss of night's illusions. Nervously he wiped his damp forehead with a hand and basked in the silence of the room. A leg swung onto the floor, followed by the other one, and shakily he made for chair near the open window. The night stalked after him though and settled back onto his mind as he sat and observed the sky. It would be a long hour or two until the sun would start rising. Old and new dreams alike had come to him this night and clearly had no intention of leaving soon.

**August 8**

The pair ambled along the grey cobbled streets and out the front gate of Edoras, headed nowhere in particular, for no apparent reason. Both spotted the soldier who had stopped them on their arrival to the city and waved at him good naturedly. He gave them a sour scowl and turned away, causing Eva and Boromir to stride off, holding back smiles. Their path brought them around to the slopes of the city's biggest hill, which was covered with bright green grass and field flowers. Boromir picked an area on the grass and sat down, encouraging his companion to do the same. Feeling flighty, she collapsed on him.

"I'll sit here," she joked.

Promptly he rolled her off his lap with a grin and pinned her to the ground.

"Hey!" she protested, pushing him off with a snicker.

"Not the first time I have downed you."

"Ha ha."

They soon fell quiet, their surroundings commanding silence and allowed to sink in. Thoughtfully they took in the Snowbourn River spread below like a crystal snake, the Ered Nimrais peaks curved away on their right, and the warm summer air wafted gently through their hair and clothing. For awhile they talked and she noticed a difference in Boromir. He seemed sober at the moment, though she could not see why. The shadow of a conversation went on, until she found herself describing her home to Boromir as he lay on the grass. Tactfully she left out details that might sound suspicious to a Middle Earth resident, also realizing she could not recall some things anyway, like the color of her car or bathroom. Glancing at her audience, she disdainfully noted that he was asleep.

Boromir woke nearly an hour later, dazed for a second as he tried to figure out why grass was tickling his skin. His head was resting on his folded arms and he sat up slightly, studying his surroundings. Eva was still sitting on the grass next to him and looked up with a smile as she saw him finally move. Bare feet peeked from beneath her dress and smoothed through the soft green grass, her boots cast aside. Field flowers were woven through the tests of her braid and a crown of flowers rested on her head. Her hands busily interwove the stems of flowers; quickly adding them from a pile of freshly picked ones nearby.

"Good afternoon sleepy head," she laughed. "I can't believe you fell asleep. Am I that boring?"

He yawned and propped himself upon one elbow. "Not at all. You just have a very soothing voice to one who did not sleep well. "

"Why is that?"

He paused, then said quickly, "Only dreams and things."

"Really?" she said doubtfully.

His eyes went past her and saw the sun. "The sun will set soon."

"Boromir is there something you want to tell me?"

Intently he studied her, then gave in with a nod. "I'm afraid I have not been entirely truthful with you." She did not wink or move, so he went on. "Last night I has this dream. I've had it before, but now it's different. A river appears with a woman drowning, my brother is nearby lamenting as arrows fly past him. When he sees her, he stops and stand up happily and the arrows fly no more. Before, it was only a voice and a light in the distance."

"A voice?" she asked curiously.

Hesitantly he answered. "Yes… It said:

Seek for the sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken,

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand."

_This sounds__ familiar_, she thought to herself, then said, "_Imladris?_ Is that why-"

"Yes, I'm traveling to see Elves in Imladris because of a dream my brother and I had. Yes Boromir has lost his mind-"

"I don't think you or Faramir is crazy," she said soothingly.

A wary gleam appeared in his grey eyes. "How do you know my brother's name?"

_Uh oh._

Her light mood fluttered away. "I haven't told you everything either….I think we need to talk."

.-.-.-.

After she finished explaining and answering his questions, he was still gazing at her with absolute shock.

"Please don't look at me like that," she mumbled miserably, now more insecure. "What?"

Another moment passed before he shook his head. "Nothing. Two seperate worlds, seven thousand years apart…It is fortunate you found me in that forest." He smiled. "I knew you were a special woman."

"Right," she said.

Carefully she picked up the second loop of braided loop of braided flowers and dropped it on his head.

"A crown for a generous prince of the White City who helped me"

"Thank you milady," he said with an air of faked haughtiness.

They stayed there for a bit, until the sun began to set and made them head for the city gates. Along the way they saw two couples, one taking a stroll together and another involved in a more intimate embrace. Boromir grinned as she turned away from the view with embarrassment, then took his "crown" and placed it soundly on her head. Fortunately another guard was on duty as they returned to Edoras and he ushered them in (and others nearby) so he could close the gates soon. They reached the Dryhtsele inn quickly and found Mildrythe sitting on the steps, being read to by Cynuise. The young woman let the girl hop off her lap and skip up to Eva.

"You are a blostma fæmne!" she squeaked excitedly. "You found the prettiest flowers to put together."

"Yes," Eva answered with amusement, and handed a wildflower crown to Mildrythe.

The girl lit up and put it on her head. "I can be a blostma bearn!"

With short thanks she went scurrying out of the room to show her mother.

* * *

Rohirric Meanings: 

-Bocfore (Store name): "book, for/ in place of."

-God æfen (Eomer's greeting): "Good evening."

-God æfen eft, Leof Éomer (Wulwina's response): "Good evening again, Lord Éomer."

-Fyrd Lecgan (Store name): "Army place."

-blostma fæmne (Eva's nickname): "Blossom maiden."

-blostma bearn (Mildrythe's nickname): "Blossom child."

**A/N: **Sorry this took a while, one of the most time consuming chapters I've had to write, and please forgive me if it was a bit boring. Note that I will be going through previous chapters as I go on with this story, editing for sentence/grammar/punctuation/other blah blah blah errors.

8/04: (Ha ha?! Think about it.) I went back and added some substance to the August 3rd bedroom scene, did it help?


	13. Ch 13: Departure

Chapter Thirteen: Departure

_"But there are wanderers o'er Eternity_

_Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be."_

-George Gordon Noel Byron

_"True friendship's laws are by this rule exprest, —_

_Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest."_

-Alexander Pope

**August 14th**

It was yet another drawn out day that influenced Eva to accept Cynuise's most recent invitation to meet. She found her in the common room, at a table with Mildrythe and another young girl, who was too old to be her daughter. It was late in the afternoon, several tables already filled with customers. The girls watched these people intently, seeming a bit frustrated. As Eva drew up a chair, Cynuise shook her head towards the children, directing them back to the messes of yarn that clung to their knitting needles.

"I am tired of this," the unknown girl groaned. She dropped the project and put her elbows on the table, her face balanced on her hands. "Hwær is modor?"

"Bertanæ," Cynuise said sympathetically. "You must stay here, you know that. Modor, Aunte Wulfwyn, Ealdmodor need to prepare for the dinner rush." She turned to Eva to explain. "This is my sister Bertanæ. I have to watch both of them while the inn is busier."

"Do you weary of only sewing and watching children?" Eva asked, slightly amazed.

"I accepted these responsibilities with my marriage, which was an odd but average experience in the beginning. The women of our country are all strong and can handle horse and sword; I can too. We can defend our homes should the men fail, but first we must protect our households from the daily wears of life."

Two hours later, Eva had finally finished her scarf and Cynuise was helping her start a sock.

"Yes, then do this. Loop that there- no the other way, yes now move that-"

They passed stories and talked away about books they had read (but each never heard of the other's) the few years difference between them less and less noticeable.

"Are you considering settling in Rohan?" Cynuise said. "It does not seem like you or your lord are leaving soon."

Eva felt like she was leading her on. "No, we're only waiting here until we acquire a map of our route and a replacement for our lost horse."

"Oh well," she said dejectedly.

As the hour passed, the dining room began to fill like always, every now and then people stopping to greet their table or exchange friendly words. The last one to do this was a man, who studied her curiously.

"Are you one of the Dúnedain staying at this inn?" he asked unexpectedly.

Not knowing what to say, she affirmed his suspicion. "Yes. I am Eva."

The man immediately held out a letter to her. "Milady, I bear this to you."

Immediately, she realized that he was likely a Rohirrim soldier. Though he was bereft of helm or mail, she could tell by the sword on his side. She took the letter and immediately he bowed and walked away. "Æva," was scrawled in tight loopy letters across the front of the parchment envelope, the back sealed with red wax and the imprint of a horse. Fortunately, before the others could ask questions, Boromir came into the common room, apparently searching for her. She deftly put her knitting into her bag and went over to him. He greeted her with a smile then brought her over to a table, eyeing the letter in her hand curiously.

"What is that?"

She looked at it and handed it to him, clueless. "I'm not sure. A soldier who knew my name gave it to me just now."

"A soldier?" he asked, and promptly tore it open.

His head nodded as he skimmed it over, then handed it back to her, seeming somewhat pleased.

_Æva lady of the Dúnedain, greetings:_

If you will, forgive my truant presence in assisting you. I have good news and some less pleasant. Long was it necessary to seek out the documentation that was specified, I searched for it myself, along with several personal servants. It took a long time to find the map; most in the archive only show details up until the River Isen. You might find it interesting to know: I located this one behind books in the old wing of Meduseld; it dates back to the time of Helm Hammerhand and the Long Winter in 2759. Perhaps Fréaláf used it to recapture Edoras from the Dunlendings? Unfortunately, its age and rarity means that I cannot merely give it to you. My cartographer is currently making a copy; it should be done within a few days of your receiving this letter. Hopefully, you will not be delayed much longer. I will discuss reimbursement of your horse next time we meet. I request that you and the swordsman meet me in two days at Bileofa market."

_Beoð ge gesunde,_

_T_

**August 16th**

Early before breakfast would be served, Boromir and Eva left the inn, heading for the Bileofa market. Wulwina sent them off with directions and a recommendation to eat there, since they were known for some of the best food in Edoras. Evidence of this became apparent as they approached the market square. The early sunlight splayed onto the dozen women who had come at dawn to scurry around, buying essentials. The air was slightly chilled with the dew and altitude, also carrying the scents of fresh crunchy bread and dough baking over the fire. Some low ranking soldiers were wandering around unclad, fetching a bite to eat before their shifts at the posts. There was no sign of Théodred in the area. Boromir frowned with frustration at noticing his absence.

Soothingly, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we're just early."

"Perhaps," he mumbled back.

Optimistic, she led him to a vendor stall, where the clerk stood, welcoming them with a smile. They went browsing through a variety of stands, ending up with newly batched butter, bread, and apples. They took a seat on the edge of a fountain, where stone horse statues stood, rearing in the water. Boromir examined the milk with a strange expression as he took it out.

"I have not had this since I was a boy," he said, lifting the container of it in her direction.

"I normally have it everyday," she said tauntingly.

She bit into the crisp apple skin and smiled at him. He gave her an evil look while he opened the bread cloth to cut it and apply the topping of butter. Meekly she accepted her piece, grinning from then on whenever the bread's dryness forced him to sip milk. About fifteen minutes later, they were just finishing off the food, when a person approached the fountain. The limber yet brawny man sat right next to Eva, bending over towards them to gain their attention.

"God morgen, good morning," he said jovially.

Immediately they acknowledged him, Boromir nodding and then briefly glancing at the sky. "Beautiful morning."

Eva turned in Théodred's direction to greet him, smiling cordially in greeting.

"I agree," he answered, averting his eyes to hers.

She reddened a bit and Boromir averted an uncomfortable silence. "Well?"

"Right," Théodred replied uprightly.

He pulled out a thin bundle of cloth, then handed it to Boromir. Promptly, the other Man unwrapped it and pulled open the map that was inside, edging over to let Eva see it too. It was smaller than the one they already carried, extremely detailed in comparison and much more neat and precise. The Old South Road trailed clearly into the middle of nowhere until it reached the Greyflood.

"Your route will lead into the remote wild," Théodred explained with some cynicism. "The path must be faded, for it is seldom used since the dissolution between Eriador and Gondor. Sense of direction must be your true guide."

Eva pointed out a circle next to the High Pass that encompassed the river Greyflood and its branch. "Imladris is not marked and what is this?"

Théodred shook his head. "Shame, no one knows where the Elven refuge lies. It is estimated to be in the area next to that river."

"How-"

"We'll probably find it," she said, before Boromir could comment. Théodred glanced at the sun, then stood up, nodding.

"What of the horse?" Boromir threw in. "We can not afford to lose more time to your walking off again-"

Eva elbowed him gently. "Honestly-"

"I do not care," he continued, with more fervor at the horseman. "Saving his rear with these ridiculous gaps of days."

"Excuse me," interrupted Théodred. He deliberately ignored the other's outright rudeness. "If you can, meet with me early tomorrow at the steps of Meduseld, there we will meet to resolve this issue in the late afternoon."

Reluctantly Boromir acknowledged this plan, but instantly gave him an odd look. "If I might have a word?"

The horseman nodded and bent his head toward Eva. "Please excuse us."

Both Men casually strolled away, designating a talking spot three yards from a random vendor stall. For the next several minutes, they conversed back and forth in low voices, even covertly sneaking glances back at her and watching out for eavesdroppers. Finally, they bent slightly at their waists in bows and allowed Eva to come over.

Théodred locked eyes with both of them and said a quick departing. "Hal wes þu, hlæfdige and hlaford. Farewell to thee, lady and lord."

Quietly he stalked off, leaving them alone. The clerk of the neighboring stall instantly appeared, bending over the selling counter in their direction.

"My, my, my! Did you not know that was the Eoh-þeling? The Horse-Prince!"

"No we didn't," Eva lied, smiling innocently at the man.

**August 17th**

Brego, second king of Rohan, completed Meduseld and long it protected the house of Eorl beneath its glimmering roof. Its magnificence multiplied as one came closer, every sunbeam caught in its reflected wonder. Very early the next morning, it reached for the blossoming rays of the sun and towered above the man and woman who waited at its feet. Eva and Boromir stood at the bottom of the Golden Hall's steps, not realizing that Théodred had long seen them before making his way down to the stairs.

"Glorious morning," he called conspiratorially.

"Indeed."

"This way," Théodred said, motioning them along.

They were led to the stables that sat below Meduseld's side, many refined horses already in the paddock. The wide fantastic stable drew Eva's eye though and she was too distracted to see them.

"Those are just the walls, you should see the inside," Théodred commented amusedly. "Would you like a tour later?"

"Yes please," she said, still awestruck.

Boromir shook his head and pulled her along to the horse paddock, following the horse prince.

"There were a dozen or so of my animals still loose yesterday," he explained.

He opened the gate, gesturing them inside, but only Eva accepted the offer. She turned back in surprise towards Boromir.

"Why?

"You are the expert. A horse is just a horse to me."

"You're not scared?" she said half seriously.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, but said nothing further, only watching as she began to quietly walk around the horses, eyeing them. Her hand lifted towards one colt and she looked back towards Théodred.

"May I?"

Giving her permission, he came further into the paddock and wandered among the horses with her. Often they picked up a horse's legs, ran a hand down their side, or studied the horses' eyes, until they had narrowed the selection down to a quartet of horses. Eva knelt by the side of a grey stallion, gently flexing the horse's joints. She got to her feet, shaking her head and pointing him out to Théodred.

"All these horses are in excellent condition, but I'm afraid that one has stiff joints."

After watching the three other horses walk, trot, and canter, she singled out a red chestnut mare with one white sock and soft but spirited eyes.

"This one will do," she said assuredly. "She is sound and light as a deer."

Théodred examined the horse too and agreed. "A very fine pick, she just matured last year from the filly stage."

Boromir was unconvinced. "_She?_Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"Well she'll be a bit slower than a colt, but she's a steadier ride. You may have her though her breeding is supreme. Horses are made to move, not to be currency," Théodred responded, putting a hand on the mare's halter. "Her name is Hæstapa, after the red stag color of her hide and the doe's spirit in her."

Boromir winced slightly at remembering the long periods of jostling he had taken from Nénar. In addition to an uneven gait, the colt had preferred a fast pace. "All right."

A servant led the horse off to the farrier and as the two retreated, Théodred announced he would fulfill his promise. "I will show you Meduseld."

For a long while, he led them through the great halls and stables, allowing them to take in the richly carved stone/woodwork and fine art throughout. One figure in particular struck the guests; it was that of Eorl on the founding steed of the Mearas, a horn in his hand. The fair-haired lord was proud but stately, the wondrous creature beneath him similar to the smooth silver stallion Shadowfax that they'd seen in the royal stable. Boromir inadvertently touched his side where his great horn normally hung, then continued to follow his guide.

There were no other living souls in the vicinity, except for the two mail clad soldiers near the entrance, who paid them little more than a curious glance. A wide stone dais stood at the end of Meduseld's main hall, in the middle of this was a great gilded chair, empty at the moment. Their guide ushered them to take a seat on the stone steps of the dais, wishing for them to have a break from their tour. A short black staff with a handle of white bone rested on the arms of the empty chair, suddenly it hit Eva where she was.

The King of Rohan owned the high place of honor on that throne-chair; and she half expected him to appear instantly, demanding that they bow on the spot. Glints of gold glimmered on the floor stones, reflected there from the morning sun towards Boromir and Théodred. These two men were the future rulers and hope for two very different yet influential countries. Their stature in this reality check made her former life as a farm girl seem insignificant and ridiculous. Noting her newfound discomfort, Boromir mistook her expression for anxiety.

"What bothers you so?" he asked, leaning closer to her.

She averted her eyes from the stonework and gave him a halfhearted smile, trying to convince him that she was okay. "Nothing."

Théodred regretfully began their separation after serving them a simple breakfast on the outside steps of Meduseld. He handed over papers that gave permission for them to travel freely in Rohan, one set for playing along with their aliases, the second contained their real identities should the day come they would be needed. On his command, three servants scrambled over to the trio, one was leading a newly shoed and outfitted Hæstapa , the others bearing wrapped bundles.

Restraining his eagerness, Théodred said, "Open them, they are for you."

Carefully, Eva folded back the cloth, revealing an item within the layers. A leather bound book lie there, filled with songs, stories, and pages about the culture of Rohan, all of it written in Westron. The second item beneath it was a blade, half the length of a sword, its handle curved to the end in a sculpted horse's head. Its scabbard was dark and covered from tip to end by figures of running horses. The second servant's bundle was for Boromir, containing new riding boots and a length of rope.

"I noticed your shoes were standard uniform issue, while Eva has the most splendid ones I have seen."

_Well they ought to be, I shelled out seven hundred bucks to get them handmade._

Both expressed their gratitude and Eva wanted to give him something in return. She opened her bag, pulling out the scarf she had finished earlier. He was surprised as she pressed it into his hands, but he accepted it enthusiastically.

"I want you to have this. Who knows it could come in handy," she explained. "I'm not the best knitter in the world-"

"It's very nice," Théodred said, allaying her doubt.

She smiled and lightly kissed him on the cheek. "Good-bye."

"Farewell."

The Men passed a quick questioning glance, then raised their hands in salute. The third servant gave the mare's lead to Eva and she started back towards the inn with Boromir. They knew it was likely neither of them would see Théodred son of Theoden again.

.-.-.-.

At the Dryhtsele Inn, they handed the mare over to a boy named Alric. He appeared eerily similar to Cynuise and they guessed him to be her brother.

"Lad, treat her well," Boromir instructed.

The boy eagerly escorted the horse to the stables, letting them leave. He shook his head and walked much closer to Eva.

"I think we should spend the day packing and leave tomorrow morn, early as we can," he said in a fairly low voice.

"I agree."

In their room, each unwrapped their gifts and out them near the bed. Eva took her new book and settled into a comfortable chair, Boromir pulled a stool up to a table and unfolded the map, beginning to study it. A half hour later he looked at his companion, who was humming the lines of one song, trying to figure out the rhythm. Feeling his observation, she met his eyes and winced.

"Sorry."

"Huh," he said, coming out of a thought.

She pointed at the map. "Sorry I interrupted you."

He dismissed it. "No no. I was just thinking."

"About?" she said, feeling inquisitive.

He stared at her straight on, then answered, "You."

"Me?" she asked, confused.

_"What the-?"_

His nod caused an ominous expectancy to rise in her.

"I have been thinking whether or not to continue on alone."

She started in surprise. "Alone? Boromir we already discussed this-"

"Not completely," he interrupted. "You are an excellent horsewoman and traveler, but the place I need to go through is wild and hostile. I fear for your safety."

"But my new-"

"A weapon is useless unless a person can handle it-"

"I can learn-"

"That's why I've been talking with Théodred, in hopes of procuring a place in Meduseld for you to stay."

"So that's why you were so secretive with him. I knew you two were up to something. I appreciate your concern, but see here, I am riding that horse tomorrow _with you_ and _going_ to Imladris," she retorted fiercely.

"I was only concerned," he said, attempting to pacify her. "I want to help you return home, but following me into death isn't the best idea in the world. Since we met, I've accepted that it is my duty to take care of you and I believed that this was the best way to do so."

She sighed. "Good people as they are, I don't believe the Rohirrim can help me. What would I do here anyway? Rot in a palace?"

"You could marry Théodred and be the future queen of Rohan," he said flatly, a smile creeping up on his face.

Her anger changed into sarcasm. "You evil little Gondorian. Hah ha very hysterical."

"Whom do you call little?" he said indignantly, pretending to be offended.

"You," she said teasingly. "Mr. Little-Gondorian-with-the-little-horn-who-swings-the-little-sword,-"

She yelped as he suddenly came towards her and she bolted from the chair.

"Take that back!" he said, choking with laughter.

.-.-.-.

Soon they began to pack and gather everything, often seeking out a lost sock or travel essential. It dawned on them how long they had been staying at the inn and how settled in they were. It was slightly sobering to realize they were leaving tomorrow, more so for Eva who had spent many of the days around Dryhtsele. This feeling overhung like a cloud as they went down for their final dinner there, taking the usual table. Cynuise came scuttling over as she caught sight of them, glancing nervously at Boromir as she leaned in to talk with Eva.

"I'm going to get a drink," he said suddenly, getting up for the bar.

"Thanks," she whispered to him, and received a wink in return.

The young woman loosened up a bit, but turned to Eva with some urgency. "My brother took your horse in very early this morning and I saw you carrying several things. I guess you shall depart soon?"

"Yes, tomorrow in fact."

"Goodness," Cynuise murmured, then perked a little. "I wish to give you something in honor of our comradeship, but you may call it an early wedding present as well." From her pouch she took out her gift and placed into an amazed Eva's hands. She smiled as the dark haired woman flipped open the blank book and thumbed through its empty pages. "It is a journal to write your thoughts in. My mother says a woman should always have a place to put her feelings in, I received one for my marriage. Husbands can drive a woman to madness sometimes."

Eva's mouth opened then shut, she almost told the Rohirrim woman the truth about the so-called "marriage," but knew she couldn't.

"I'll use it often," she said quietly, and turned away as she thought of a way to return the favor.

Eva bent over her cloak and from a tightly knotted corner, withdrew a necklace from it. Every little jewelry thing she had worn the day of her arrival had been kept hidden there, she did not wish to draw attention to the fairly expensive items. Earlier in the journey, she had never wanted Boromir to know she had something like it, in fear of him becoming suspicious. A small silver horseshoe pendant hung from a solid silver chain, and she laid it in the shieldmaiden's hand, propelling it towards her.

Cynuise's hand closed around it solemnly, but she lifted her head and gave her a small smile. "Ic þancie þe, thank you."

Recalling a phrase Théodred had used, Eva imitated the sound as best as she could remember. "Hal wes þul."

"Lady, your accent is horrific," Wulwina muttered as she passed by, happening to "overhear" the conversation.

Both women broke into stifled laughter, earning curious looks from nearby customers.

.-.-.-.

August 18th

Their boots made patterns in the dirt as the pair hovered around Hæstapa, strapping on the last pack and double-checking the tightness of the rein and saddle. There was the tiniest amount of light from the coming sunrise and the air was still and asleep, calm from the long night. Boromir patted the horse and watched Eva swing up into the saddle, helping only himself up after she sat down easily. He knew by now not to offer any assistance. The mare started into a trot with the merest flick of the reins, the ringing of her shoes echoing among the streets of Edoras. Two soldiers stood at the main entrance, barely acknowledging the passersby as they went through the newly opened gate. The vast plains of Rohan opened before the companions, a road cutting through it that they had gone far on and still had much to travel.

* * *

Rohirric Translations: 

- "Hwær is modor?" (Bertan's question): "Where is mother?"

-"Modor, Aunte Wulfwyn, Ealdmodor (Cynuise explanation): "Mother, Aunt Wulfwyn, Grandmother (actually means: "old mother")

-Bileofa (Market name): "food".

-"Beoð ge gesunde" (Théodred's letter): Hail! (plural)

-God morgen (Théodred's greeting): "Good morning."

-"Hal wes þul, hlæfdige and hlaford." (Théodred's departing): Farewell/Be thou well, lady and lord.

-"Eoh-þeling" (Vendor's nickname for Théodred): "Horse prince."

-Hæstapa (Horse's name): "stag"

-Ic þancie þe (Cynuise's response): "I thank you."

-Hal wes þul (Eva's farewell): "Be thou well."

---------------------

**A/N:** -We finally leave Edoras, sniffle the next leg of the journey is about to begin. Want more of the Dryhtsele Inn family? I will release another story that I have been working on) that follows Cynuise (Essentially the same point of view as "Of Earth and Water.") As you can see, I was fairly busy with other things to work on this chapter, but here it is! According to my file size (& word count) this is the longest chapter ever! Cool.

þ


	14. Ch 14: West Water

-Dedicated to my best friend (once again!) Melissa!!

**A/N:** Oh MY! It's ME! Can you believe it? What was I up to for so long? See my Livejournal, (linked on profile) and never go frustrated again waiting for updates! On there will be secret revelations of upcoming chapters and responses to reviewers.

Chapter Fourteen: West Water

_"Here lies one whose name was writ in water."_

-John Keats

_"They never turn or pause to rest,_

_But onward to the shining West,_

_Like some swart serpent, fold on fold,_

_The long procession still is rolled._

_But where they go, or what they seek,_

_Unguessed beyond the mountain lies…."_

-Duncan J. Robertson

_"Once more upon the waters! yet once more!  
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed  
That knows his rider."_

- Lord George Gordon Noel Byron

**August 21**

Disappointingly, their continued trek through the countryside was nearly identical, beautiful slopes and grass continuously passing by. Boromir did most of the talking to pass time, the twinging in Eva's back and neck kept her silent. The mare's gait was smooth and controlled, but it did nothing to help the aches from sleeping on the ground. They stopped riding as the sun began to fade, choosing the ground beside an outcropping of rocks for their camp. A wind whipped their hair and cloaks as they dismounted the mare, causing Boromir to glare in disdain at the sky.

"We had best spend the night on the east side of these stones, I fear this wind is not brief," he murmured while assisting Eva in unloading Hæstapa.

Since mid-afternoon, a western wind had assaulted them, blowing in their faces as they rode. Soon the sky passed into twilight, and they began to unroll their blankets for the night. The pang in Eva's muscles became pronounced, and she grimaced at the ground, detesting the forthcoming sleep. She could not help but notice Boromir's calm keenness as he spread out his things, as if looking forward to a good night's rest.

"How do you _want_ to sleep on the ground?"

His head lifted somewhat loftily. "My life as a soldier of Gondor has accustomed me to living roughly at times."

Enviously she studied his handiwork, then decidedly dragged her things several yards, so that both of their "beds" were lying together.

"Perhaps your experience has something to do with it," she mumbled as they crawled beneath their respective blankets. She propped herself upon an elbow, a wide smirk on her face. "Or it could be that pillow you are hiding beneath your covers."

Hesitantly he pulled into view a lumpy sack that was tied off at the end with rope. "This is only my extra clothing."

"A laundry bag filled with clothes still counts as a pillow."

"I admit it," he said wearily. "That's the end of this business."

"No, it's only the beginning," she said slyly.

Unexpectedly she put her head on his shoulder, causing him to jolt. "What-"

"It's only fair if _you_ serve as my head support and pillow."

"I find this a bit inane."

"Really, Lord Boromir?" she asked. "I seem to recall you crawling into _my_ bed."

"Very well," he said amusedly, putting an arm around her shoulder. "You are a very steadfast woman."

"Sor-"

"But I admire you for it," he interrupted, before she could apologize. He closed his eyes and leaned back. "Good night."

"Good night," she sighed. "And thanks."

**August 22**

The plain grass appeared through the dim light, blurring for a second as the Man opened his eyes and blinked awake. It was the beginning of sunrise, but there was only silence in the air. He felt something warm and soft against his cheek, and glanced down with some confusion before realizing it was Eva. Gathering himself, he prepared to slip away from her, trying to nudge her gently off his shoulder. He couldn't move. She had him accidentally restrained, her arm across his chest and most of her weight leaned into him.

"Eva," he whispered urgently, wriggling his arm slightly. "Eva."

This movement rubbed his cheek stubble against her forehead, and she jerked at feeling it. Her blue eyes opened slowly and met his, before she closed them again, a content smile crossing her face.

"Good morning," she breathed.

"I have to get up," he said firmly. "Please."

"Sorry, I'm comfortable," she murmured. Keeping her grip on him, she slid her arm closer to her body. "My neck and back don't hurt anymore."

"Glad I was of service," he said sincerely. "But-"

Suddenly he freed himself, discreetly rolling her onto the blankets as he stood up. She gave him a dirty look and flopped back onto her side, shutting her eyes tightly. She heard his chain mail clink as he pulled it on, beginning to get dressed. For a few minutes, she ignored him, until she felt the blankets on top of and beneath her starting to slide away. Agitatedly she sat up, finding Boromir near her feet, the bedding being gathered in his hands.

"I got the message," she said weakly, getting to her knees. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

He handed her the other side of the blankets and she clumsily helped him with it. "I wish to be on the road soon."

Suspicious, she ran her eyes over him. "Alright."

.-.-.-.

The sun was high above them when they passed into the Westfold Vale. Their travel was much slower, Boromir often took a break off the horse and walked beside it as Eva rode. The mare seemed to appreciate the lightening of the load, her long flat stride transforming into the normal jaunt of a riding horse. Her passenger occasionally might ease back into the saddle and talk with the Man, or direct her into a canter on and off the trail in playfulness. After she circled back with the horse once more, Boromir finally urged her to stop the horse, wanting her to tag along. Curious, she dismounted, using the reins to lead the mare behind her, the leather strap wrapped tightly around her arm. They crested a low hill and Boromir halted her, pointing south as awe spread on his face. Off in the distance of the Vale, the green grass swept into a coomb below the mountains. In its midst stood an impressive fortress with high walls and a tower of great but ancient stone.

"Helm's Deep," he said quietly. "The famous hold of Rohan."

He glanced at Eva, to find that she was giving him an odd look. "What is it?"

"Held by Helm of Rohan in the winter of 2738 in the siege against Wulf and the Dunlendings."

"Yes," he said slowly, somewhat amazed, yet irked by her continued observance.

"It's just a coincidence we happened to get up early and turn slightly from our path and come across the great military hold-"

"Fine," he declared. "Perhaps that was my intent. Now will we approach the fortress?"

Eagerly he took a step in its direction, but Eva snatched him by the arm.

"We really can't," she said regretfully.

In astonishment, he turned to her, locking eyes in a searching gaze. "You must know how much this means to me," he said softly.

Unwillingly, she felt her resolve drop away, and she sighed, "Okay, Mr. Suave. You owe me one. Let's go."

**August 23**

The recent change in travel had changed their tempers about going so far, each found it exhausting when they varied the course of the day. The next morning they found the sun hidden behind a bank of clouds. It was much faster for them to pack up, their bed from the night needed less blankets when they shared it. With good humor, Boromir accepted that he was earmarked as Eva's permanent pillow, especially when they rode Hæstapa. The wind was still blowing as they set out, Eva grudgingly tucking her hair beneath her cloak so it would not hit Boromir in the face. A chill picked up as the wind shifted from the north, forcing both to pull their cloaks in and sit closer in the saddle.

Soon, after what they presumed to be noon, (the sun hidden) the landscape became obscure as a fog started rolling in around them. Both thought about stopping until it cleared, but the line of sight was clear for several yards and Hæstapa was attentive, using her senses and ability to keep on the road. Unexpectedly, the mare altered her pace, her ears pricked at the path before them. Right away Eva felt the small change, and faced ahead, Boromir doing the same as he saw Hæstapa's ears. He'd had enough experience with Nénar to know that it meant a horse was on alert.

Neither of them slowed her down, but instinctively Boromir slipped his hand off her hip and under his cloak, so his hand rested on his sword hilt. Distracted, Eva did it too, though it might not do any good, if the time came to use it. Her forearm rested against the scabbard belt around her waist, Théodred's politely accepted but unwanted gift to her companion. The left hand on her hip moved detectably, half-clenched and the thumb restless, a habit of his whenever he was troubled or thinking. It'd been the same way during the day they had left Edoras.

_He had_ _uncovered the belt curled up at the top of his pack…_

"Oh Valar," Boromir muttered, standing up from his bag.

His companion looked up from her place near the fire, where she had been adding more wood into the small flame.

"What's wrong?" She saw his left fist clenched and a cloth wrapped item in his right hand, which he was regarding disdainfully.

"This belt, I thought it gone," he said, unwrapping it.

"I found it in a chair at the inn while packing last night. I was really surprised to find it in such a place."

"Very unusual," he said, not bothering to play innocent.

"Théodred meant well," she said helpfully.

"I'm sure," he responded flatly.

Purposeful, he picked up the sheathed blade that lay beside her on the ground, and slid the belt into the scabbard properly. She watched him confusedly.

"What-"

"Stand up," he ordered.

As she did so, he looped it around her waist, tightly knotting it off.

"I thought you were-"

Boromir shook his head.

"When-"

"Remember-"

"But-"

_He still shook his head, smirking and his hand no longer clenched…._

Boromir grasped her shoulder and squeezed it gently with his sword hand. "Eva?" he asked.

Suddenly she turned to him, smiling over her shoulder. "Hm? Sorry."

His head frontward, he nodded at the road. "There is the source of panic," he said amusedly.

The horse had traveled enough for them to discover five deer in the distance, two of them smaller than the others and all grazing on the roadside. Each raised their head as Hæstapa's hoof struck a stone, the metallic ringing causing the animals to flee. A small chuckle escaped her at remembering something her Aunt Maggie used to say every time they saw a deer in the crops. Before she had died, the fields were filled with plants and wild animals that sought the food. They could spend a whole afternoon watching their charades. _"'My grandmother told me that Celts used to take deer as a symbol of change. I suppose they were right, every time they're deer around, the fields change because somebody takes a bite out of the corn, and there's a change in the change coming into our pockets.'" _

"What is so amusing?" Boromir asked, having felt her laugh.

Realizing for a moment who she was actually talking to, she said, "Nothing."

Maybe her Aunt and Great-grandmother were on to something.

**August 24**

The fog continued on, occasionally lifting or lessening, though it was a constant nuisance. By late afternoon, the fog had mostly disappeared, but it was very dark for the daytime, grey clouds clogging the sky. Finally, the peaks of the Ered Nimrais were fully behind them, curving away south towards Gondor. The travelers were talking about their parents and relatives when Eva happened to feel a drop of water hit her shoulder.

Thinking in amazement it might be a tear, she interrupted him, "What was that? Are you okay?"

"What? Yes I am, why?" he asked, having not noticed.

Simultaneously they peered up at the sky, allowing raindrops to splash onto their noses and cheeks. They groaned loudly, and almost at once, it began to drizzle. She gripped the reins and her knees tighter, urging the horse increase the pace.

"We must seek shelter," he said.

The rain coincidentally thickened and rolled onto them in a torrent, thunder rumbling off in the distance. The clouds lit up blue with lightning, causing the horse to spontaneously speed up and her riders to anxiously search for shelter. It was very dangerous for them to remain out in the grassland, as they were, exposed to the elements and barely able to see anything. Frantically they galloped down the road, appraising piles of boulders and embankments, until they spotted two close growing trees. They hurried to reach them, their clothing drenched and hoods pulled high over their heads as they went beneath. Unfortunately, they noticed water still sufficiently dripped down onto their heads, and that lightning could strike the tall target. Boromir turned to her, pressed the reins into her palm, and met her in the eyes.

"Stay here," he said firmly. "I must find somewhere completely protective."

"You can't-"

"I mean it, stay right here, you shall be safe with the horse," he said in an authoritative manner.

Concernedly she watched his back disappear beyond the tree branches and impenetrable dark.

She yelled after him, "I'm more worried about you!"

The mare stamped her foot as lightning streaked across the sky, and she heard no answer.

.-.-.-.

Her head lifted as she heard snapping wood, but realized it was one of the branches breaking in the storm. The minutes seemed like hours, she had no idea how long ago Boromir had left. She huddled closer against Hæstapa, having urged the horse recently to lie down. The cold air tore at them, carrying a bad amount of rain right through the greenery, even hitting them with the damp leaves. Trancelike, she stared at the darkness over the boughs and the horse's side, watching where her companion had tramped away. Her head rested on Hæstapa's side, the mare smelling wet and horse-ish, but it was more of a comfort than a hindrance. Unexpectedly she heard an obscure sound from behind her. Whipping around, she saw next to the trunk, a hulking figure wrapped in the gloom, and she promptly screamed.

Horse and human leapt up in panic, and broke from the trees; Eva's blade unsheathed and held in the air as the figure came hurtling in their direction through the downpour. Lightning split the sky, blue light flashing upon them and gleaming in her sword and the intruder's, revealing a tall dark haired man.

"_Boromir?_" she gasped, her heart thudding madly.

Instinctively, she picked up Hæstapa's lead, (not that the horse had moved) and blindly grasped the arm that the Man held out to her. He drew her underneath the "shelter," his eyes wide and wild as he scrutinized her.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he breathed.

He glanced at her exposed sword and she tucked it away sheepishly, inspiring him to do the same.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I just thought you were- _something._"

"Good," he croaked with relief, half patting her on the back. "Come, follow me."

**August 25**

Thunder rumbled in the sky, resonating across the terrain, close to where the travelers were nestled. For the night, they had found shelter beneath a natural overhanging cleft in a high pile of boulders, just able to fit both of them and their belongings. It faced south away from the brunt of the storm, but the air around them was chilled, the wind carrying a far-reaching draft. The mare's head and left side was partially protected too, and inadvertently acted as a barrier to weather possibly assaulting from the west. A compromise had Boromir lying against her hindquarter; Eva curled atop him, secured by his arm, Hæstapa's lead wrapped around her free hand.

At dawn, routine and the storm woke him, and he opened his eyes slowly, still exhausted. It was comfortable and warm under the blanket, their body heat mutual and kept close, but nonetheless Boromir shivered. Their clothes were very damp from yesterday's encounter, their boots so waterlogged and cumbersome in the mud; they had removed them and gone barefoot. The dimmed early light allowed him to see his companion was asleep, and that water pooled on the hill slope below them. Rain and thunder continued to pound above them, a threat to any further traveling. It seemed to have lightened up, but he sighed perturbedly, pulling the coverlet higher on Eva's shoulder. Accidentally, his movement roused her, and she lifted her head, assessing him tiredly.

"Time to get up?" she asked halfheartedly.

"No, we have more than enough time," he said, stroking her head reassuringly. "Sleep."

.-.-.-.

Late in the morning, they crawled out from their shelter of stone, the storm over and on its way elsewhere. Sunlight streamed through the thinning banks of clouds, water only dripping from the trees or lying in deep puddles. Their clothing was streaked with dirt from the night and sloppy trail, and clumped on their boots as they walked. Hæstapa was in worse condition, her coat scruffy and stuck with mud, several pebbles lodged in her hooves. Wearily Eva worked her over with hoof pick and comb, until she could do no more. Boromir began to facetiously comment that he could no longer see a difference between her and the mare in smell or sight. She retorted by playing keep away with his precious sword, darting and yelping whenever he came close to her.

"Eva!" he shouted after her, as she ran away once more.

.-.-.-.

Their liveliness prevailed through the day, a result of endured extremities through the days before. With every step, they went deeper into the Gap of Rohan. Through miles of puddles and bunged mud their path led, until short of sun fall the Great West Road crossed with the sheer Isen. The Misty Mountains rose high and formidable in the north, its peaks piercing the sky were greater than most of the Ered Nimrais. The riders dismounted and stood on the Isen's shore, gazing at the land that opened like a shadowed green haze in the distance. This was a marker for how far they had come to the day, and hope rose in their hearts at surveying the vista, but Eva's was eclipsed by doubt.

The mountains seemed foreboding as they ran away to their right, and the wide emptiness held the true wild, which seemed ready to clasp some uncertain Doom tighter about them. Suddenly, she shook her head to rid these daunting thoughts from her mind, there was nothing to fear with her valiant friend at her side. The thing she was truly uneasy about was the crucial crossing of the Isen. Its water flowed at no extraordinary pace over rocks and ground, but was whole and strong in movement, looking very deep overall.

"We traverse here," Boromir said musingly. He pointed at two marker poles that stood parallel with each other, two yards from the edge of the water. "I do not fancy becoming wet; all I can achieve is keeping most of everything dry."

"Wonderful," she said bitterly. "Another river- and more water."

"Worrying will not help you," he said, bending over to remove his boots. Trying to urge her, he motioned with his hand to her dress. "You shall have to undress too; you cannot cross in all of that."

She gawked at his suggestion. "Um, no thanks. I'd rather be soaked and scratched than sitting naked on a horse in a rushing river with a Man in the middle of nowhere. In these circumstances."

Painfully, he restrained his laughter, and struggled to correct her. "I meant- as many layers possible."

She made a face at and fidgeted with her sleeve, but he stared her down until she relented. "Fine, no looking though until I'm ready to go."

After five-minute toil, they were down to one layer each, most of their clothes and boots removed while avoiding the dirt. Without turning an eye in his direction, she immediately packed her things away and began to strap their bags higher on the horse, so they would not be damaged or lost. A bare arm brushed hers as Boromir joined in, affectionately securing his armory above the other gear and the mare's croup. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him studying her.

"Why are you doing that?"

"This," he said pointing, pointing to her healing cuts. One was a long thin scab on her upper right arm; another on her leg was wider and not as mended. "I did not know they were like that, your clothes hid them."

Her hand tugged habitually at her linen shift, decorated at the edges with simple white embroidery, a neckline that dipped low from its wide straps for the shoulders, and ended three inches below the knees. She'd regretted wearing her shorter shift in the chillier air, but it was fine now that it was mysteriously warmer, the summer returning after foul weather had passed.

"It was worse before my bruises healed," she said dispassionately.

He lifted an eyebrow, but did not pursue the subject. Instead, he turned to the Isen and went in until his ankles were underwater. At his bid, Eva timidly trudged in after him, Hæstapa's line held tightly. When their shins were submerged, a puzzled Boromir leaned down, peering at the markers. A series of weathered but clear inscriptions were cut into the wood.

Flyd Pleoh:

-

Heah

-

Midd

-

Lyt

-

The river lapped beneath "midd," and Boromir stared at it, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.

"I guess it means: 'Flood something is at middle?'" Eva said helpfully.

"I was afraid of this," he said aloud, then mumbled. "Théodred…damn…was right…"

Inquisitively she regarded him. "Boromir?"

"Hmm?"

"What about Théodred?"

He froze and fell silent, facing her slowly. The cornered glint in his eyes told her there was something hidden from her.

"I thought we agreed to tell each other everything?"

"I may have heard from Théodred," he admitted resignedly. "That this is flood season, when much rain is expected."

"Great, we could've been past here long ago?"

"Not quite," he answered, standing up. "In fact, we shall leave at this moment. All right?"

"Okay."

Quietly, she mounted and made room for him, allowing him to grip the saddle and put his left foot into the stirrup. Abruptly his right foot slipped in the pebbled bank, jolting him backwards. Automatically he clutched at the horse, and Eva instantly grabbed his arm. The saddle jilted but held, and Hæstapa swung her head agitatedly, wondering what the Man was doing.

"Whoa," he huffed. Encouragingly he pat the horse's side.

"It'll take more than a Gondorian soldier to move a two ton horse," she said, while helping him get up behind her.

Purposely he pulled her tightly to him and growled good-naturedly, starting the horse off at a fast but safe pace. Hæstapa's hooves splashed as she moved on and watched her balance because of the added weight of humans and belongings. The female passenger clearly was on edge, a strong hold on her sides with the knees, and in her mane. As the water came up to their feet, the anxiety grew until Boromir was able to feel it also, perceptive because he wore no shirt. Her hand that grasped his wrist was quavering, and he felt it on the skin of her back.

"You're trembling," he whispered.

"Oh," she said feebly, gazing at him over her shoulder. "Just a little uneasy."

"Do not worry. Rivers are safe, particularly when I am near," he announced. "My brother and I swam across the Anduin's width during battle!"

Reassuringly he squeezed her waist with his arm, and lowered his head above her shoulder. His half cocoon relaxed her considerably, the extra warmth comforting though it was a nice day. They were up to their knees when Hæstapa's hoof abruptly slipped, severely jolting her riders and disconnecting them, her strained balance hurtling Boromir off her back. Eva cried out and spun in the saddle, in time to see her companion disappear beneath the waves several feet away. She nearly tumbled off the horse as she desperately plunged her hand into the river to help him. Her fingers closed on nothing, the Isen's surface hid everything from her eyes above, as she frantically sought him.

"Boromir! _BOROMIR!"_

* * *

**Rohirric Meanings:**

-"Flyd Pleoh," means: "flood danger:"

- "Heah," means: "high."

- "Midd," means: "middle."

- "Lyt," means: "light."

**Other:**

What in the world are those parts on a horse? I marked the horse anatomy that I was using in the story on a picture. Go to theofficial "Of Earth and Water" page where you can find it and the family tree of Eva.

**You. Review. Now.**

The boring stuff…

I'm my worst critic on paper, but I can't pick out errors too often on my own digitally displayed papers, please excuse any errors, they will always be fixed in the future.

I guess its time for a disclaimer; I haven't done one in a while. I own Eva, Hæstapa, and the claim to other original characters and places in this story, blablabla, Tolkien owns the Lord of the Rings Characters and Places and related, All Rights Reserved Two thousand Four, so and so forth, I'm only invading his imagination with my imagination.


	15. Ch 15: Lamenting Echoes

Chapter Fifteen: Lamenting Echoes

_"How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start  
When memory plays an old tune on the heart!"_

_-Eliza Cook_

_"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud—and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unreplying dead there comes no word. But in the night of Death Hope sees a star and listening Love can hear the rustling of a wing."_

_- Robert Green Ingersoll_

_"Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle  
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime;  
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,  
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?"_

_- George Gordon Noel Byron_

**August 25 continued…**

"Boromir!" she shouted once more.

The mare anxiously shifted in the confusion of the river and woman. Surveying the Isen, Eva pulled Hæstapa hopefully to where she had last seen Boromir. Immediately, horse and rider sank into deeper water, forcing them to scramble back onto the stony marked ford. Turning forward to guide the mare, she suddenly screamed as she caught sight of the water. A dark haired head and two shoulders peeked from the river, her companion calmly treading water before them. A grin was on his face as he expertly swam over to a shocked Eva, who instantly helped him back up. He saw the flitting shadow of fear as they surveyed one another, glad that each was safe.

"I thought you were dead," she choked out.

"It will take more than a river to overtake a Man of Gondor," he said good-naturedly. When her worried expression did not subside, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Valar, I am sorry this happened, but I did not leave you. It is my duty not to depart when it is not your complete will that I should do so."

"Swear?"

"Yea."

Her relief was strangled with the terror and doubt she had felt a minute earlier. They were horrid thoughts of being alone again in the world, (no matter which one it was) and another familiar person lost. He held her tightly once more in a comforting way, taking the reins from her so that he would deal with the river. By now they were both particularly wet, but neither cared. It seemed forever until the water level ceded, and they ascended the other embankment marked near the end by identical posts. Joyfully they dismounted and decisively stripped everything off the mare except her halter and the longest rope. Gratefully she flipped her head and trotted to the length of her picket for room. Disdainfully they examined their belongings, finding everything very damp, miraculously only Boromir's chain mail and the swords remained dry.

They stood amid their belongings on the shore bank, Eva untangling item from item and Boromir placing things out to dry.

"I'm not sure we'll be sleeping on anything tonight," she said grimly, eyeing the blanket he held up. "-or wearing much of anything," she added, seeing how filthy their clothes really were.

"They are not very bad, we can suffer," he said optimistically. He sniffed his shirt then cringed, holding it away from himself. "Oh Oromë, it smells like a stable and soiled stockings."

Glancing at Eva's knowing look, he tossed it in a pile. "I surrender."

.-.-.-.

It took two hours to scrub and sort everything, since Boromir did not know how to do wash properly. Nonstop he muttered about it, until she reluctantly let him off the hook. Getting him to bathe in the river was another thing, completely against his mind set.

"You told me swimming was likeable," she argued yet again.

For a while, she'd been bickering with him, attempting to convince him to wash in the river.

"Swimming is quite different from bathing. I have a minimum per month, only often when in civilized company or society."

"So I don't count then?" she said coolly, folding her arms.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. A well of frustration shot into his mind and he irritatedly grabbed the proffered block of soap from her hand. Aggravated strides carried him into the Isen, and he stared at her with an evil look. Beneath a soldier attempt to appear stern and annoyed, there was constant amusement in his eyes whenever they argued over washing.

"You stubbornness will not always avail you," he warned.

"It seemed to this time."

.-.-.-.

After scraping mud off body and horse, they were thoroughly clean, but exhausted. Next, they settled down to eat the long awaited food on the rocky shore. Eva's travel bread was forced down as she ate, her eyes heavy. Both were silent, even after the meal, as they watched the sun finally disappear behind the horizon. For the last task, she wearily pulled over the saddle and began to treat it against any further damage and check for all signs of soundness. Soon her fingers moved lazily over the rich leatherworked braids and scrolls, until she put all aside, finished and tired.

She laid belly down onto the ground, her head atop folded arms and encircled with the wild grass. Her gaze was towards the Isen on her right, which looked wider and shallower since they'd passed it. Somehow, it seemed less threatening, but stouter and shielded, as if to declare she'd never traverse back across it. The wind was soft and cool, a still clear sky reflected in the passing waves. One by one, the stars of Varda ''1'' brightened along the deep purple veil, burning with inner fire in all the colors of the heavens. The most radiant star seemed to float along the water towards them, high above their heads in the West. In the encompassing darkness, its flame seemed to be a small beacon, heralding the ancient deliverance of the Hither Lands and its hope to all travelers.

Boromir sat unnoticed several feet ahead of her along the shore. He appeared disgruntled from the stayed stinging of washed off soap lye in his hands and feet that could disconcert even the hardiest warrior of Middle-Earth. In truth, his mind was blank and ignorant of it. Rather a feeling filled him, layered with aches for his home and brother against the content of having been looked after. Eva wasn't one who would fawn on just any man, but the encounter had left her thoroughly shaken for a time and worried about him. He had noticed it in her covert checks over him, and the care shown towards him and his things. It had gone on wordlessly between them, one too stubborn to get it out of him, the other too stubborn to affirm or deny even if something was wrong from the afternoon.

Tired and calm he was leaned back on his elbows; his worn feet halfway dipping and recovering in the water. Nonchalantly he noticed the ripples from his feet met smaller ones from movement in the water on his right. Eva was the source of the other disturbance, lying practically motionless except for her arm that reached over the short distance to the Isen. Her hands traced the stars and her fingers splayed through the water, as if reaching for the brightest celestial glow. She remarked the intermingling waves as they passed across her sight. A somewhat eerie but fading light was rimmed at the edges of her eyes as she lifted them in Boromir's direction, capturing his attention.

He nodded at the star's image before her. "Eärendil."

She smiled thoughtfully with acknowledgment before turning over onto her back, and studying the sky. Boromir left his head in her direction, feeling at peace with the water lapping at his feet and Eva on his right. His resting ears soon caught the sound of his companion whispering to no one in particular. She was off in her world, completely oblivious to everything around her.

"Eärendil was a mariner

that tarried in Arvernien;

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow was fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid…"

His mind unwittingly wandered far with the lay's rhythm, the words forming into images before his eyes. The great captain was a traveler like him and could easily be lost in the dark without a deliverable purpose. For Eärendil, it had been to ask saving of Middle-Earth, and his path lit with Elwing, the fate carrying Silmaril upon her.

"…on starless waters far astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped-"

Unexpectedly he noticed that she had stopped the recitation. She was studying him now, curious of his distant expression and a little embarrassed that he'd heard her.

"Do not mind me," he urged. "Please continue."

Her head slightly and turned back onto her stomach, her legs half bent in the air behind her. "I can't remember the rest right now," she said hesitantly.

He reckoned it was not the entire truth, but he let her be as he was too tired to persuade her. The light continued to cascade onto her and she lay side by side with the star of Eärendil. They were still, but like jewels, one glimmered in the waving water and the grassyearth.

She lifted her head and gave him a wry smile, swinging her feet back and forth in the air as she returned his continuing gaze. "What?"

Slowly he returned to comprehension, but gave no answer. "The Lay of Eärendil, where did you learn it?"

The smirk faded slightly as she thought of the answer, not really knowing what to say. In earnest, she had explained everything to him as logically possible that day in the fields, but there were things like the recording about the great war in Middle-Earth that she had left out. From her first week in this other world, she had trouble remembering information about these days or her true home. At times, an inkling or foreboding crept upon her, but mostly a shroud lay on the depths of her memory, frustrating and unheralded.

**_It was in Théodred's gift, but that was wasn't the first time I saw it. I know it was in a story or something, but it definitely wasn't written as part of the original shorter tales of the Elder Days._**

"I read it somewhere long ago, but it was in my book too."

Something flickered in Boromir's eyes, and he turned away from her, saying no more.

**.-.-.-.**

_As if she was taking flight, the ground disappeared from beneath her feet, left behind as she was lifted up…_

A dim faded scene appeared before her eyes, unknown and strange. Seemingly, amid tons of crafted rock, a tall pinnacled tower of hewn black stone rose forebodingly in front of her, like an arm thrust straight from the earth. At the top of its fingered tier, it pierced the moon, which sat cold and alone in the sky. It glistened onto the tower's top, revealing a grey figure mysteriously pacing. A pair of wings suddenly appeared behind it and in a rush of wind, disappeared into the dark. As it fled, evil cries rose in a din, the world turning upside down and straight into day.

A wide glassy river appeared below, entwined among fields of blazing emerald grass that lay between gaping mountain ranges. The river immediately began to shrink and dissolve, its waters unexplainably retreating northward. Shallow beds of water surrounded by murky inlets of stone and mud were left behind, then quickly scattered with springing beds of green. Blood curdling yells of beast and man went up as wraithlike lines and groups marched onto the fields, their feet strangling the young plant life.

A fog-like contrivance hung behind the dark angry lines, inhuman grunts and shouts rising above them. The new morning sun rolled in with a pastel tinted sky from the east. Its brilliance gleamed like white fire on the shining steel clad lines marching northwest, their might moved along by proud steeds of perfect sculpted flesh. Chorused chants charged against the evil voices as these waves from the east and west were unleashed. The Earth shook and echoed with pounding boots and hooves, soon lost to the clashing of metal and the uplifting stout notes of horns.

The sun swept across the sky and shadows grew among increasing pools of black or red blood, lifeless bodies thickening on the plains. The lines fractured and scattered across the fields, the heaviest armed creatures converging madly on a group of men. The human's horses leaped forward at them, guided by riders and driving spears. At the middle rode a tall hardy man, his fair-haired head moving in sync with his long fell sword. He had nearly fought and directed his way out of the trap, when a flurry of arrows rained upon them. Several plunged simultaneously into the white neck of his horse, and one sank sharply into his hip.

In a final cry, his mount sank to the ground, throwing him from the blood stained saddle. A third of men around him fell too, all hurtled or smashed into the ground. An enemy blade sliced at his neck, but he dodged it and the additional Orcs that flew at him. He knocked aside a few more of the foul creatures, but a particularly large one clouted him repeatedly with a metal heavy fist. It choked and held the future King of a country by the neck, raising a blade with its ugly phalanges…

Grey fell and blurred over the scene in a mist, pulling Eva far away from the grisly place. Above her, the dark sky began to reappear, the stars struggling through the clouds and white light of the moon.

_The night was hollow and still, the air pierced with a chill from the forthcoming autumn..._

The only sound that could be heard was the lapping of nearby water that lie in its bed of fields. Grass whispered as the woman slid across it, gossiping of her odd passage at such a time of day. Hurried but quiet she stalked toward the barriers of her destination, her heart ablaze with eternal anger, a fear clinging to her bones. It was not the fear of being caught in this act or of any person, she was no longer afraid of _them_, anyone, or anything. The stark wooden fence across her path was easily scaled. The hem of her dark robe barely brushed the top rail as she leapt down onto the other side; one-step closer to her goal.

Her thin strong hands stealthily lifted away the leaves of the corn stalks, and let them fall behind her in the barest rustle. Lightly and assuredly, she walked through the corn, using a tending route only the field hands and she knew. If she had done otherwise and used a candle/lantern instead, the brightness would have given her away and allowed her to be caught by her so-called husband and his mistress. She could not stand being locked in her dark room again, the echoing walls mocking her screams for help, her fingers clawing at them until they were raw and rent with splinters.

The punishment did not deter her, for the soil at her feet kept her tied to her final set purpose. Its dark richness moved beneath her toes, thick with promise, growth, beside the blood and days of her family. If she did not do this tonight, she knew the strength would never be in her again. The pressure of withholding the land from Samuel and Martha had become too much, and she could not let them steal it from her rightful son, Keith. Her heart drummed steadily and loud in her strong but thin chest, her ears finally capturing the melody of lapping waves. The path emerged near the stream, the corn closing behind her like a tall green gate. Decisively she retreated slightly upstream to the deepest point, a mesmerizing duty settling onto her. At the water's edge, she stood motionless, facing the opposite bank as she took off her robe. The cold stricken stones bit into her bare feet as she walked in and stared at the bottom, her nightgown (from the waist down) swirling in the current like a pale ghost. Her face reflected there in the waning moonlight, her eyes wild but wise and full of sorrow that was darker than the hair on her head.

Air filled her lungs as she breathed deeply, rushing images and memories across her mind. The loving arms of her only true husband, his arms around her child rounded belly, their last tender kiss before he fell in the Great War. Her son tucked peacefully beside her, his eyes closed that held his father's look and personality. The time of innocence as she sat long ago in her mother's lap, their hands clasped as young Elena faded into sleep beneath the lullaby, gentle Irish eyes watching over her. Her resolve beginning to struggle, she began to hum it to herself, her spirit stirring with it. The words were different though, only the lyrics of longing and change were left to her as they returned from her memory.

_There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet  
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet  
Oh! The last rays of feeling and life must depart  
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart._

_Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene  
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green  
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill  
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still… _

_Sweet vale of my land! How calm could I rest_

_In thy bosom of shade, with those I love best  
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease  
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace." _

As it faded away, she clutched the silvery letters clasped on her neck, and hungrily shrieked, "I have chosen! Curse the bloodied soil and maimed waters! Until the last, with my stolen life!"

The angry words were carried by a sudden gust of wind as she laughed and hurled herself into the water. The small shout of a boy echoed from the barn, but she did not comprehend her youngest son's cry. Rocks and creek scraped and pummeled her limbs, water flooding her lungs as she was swept away.

_Her breath ended in sharp stabs, and her heart painfully jolted to a stop… _

Terror surged through her body as Eva jerked awake, gulping life sized amounts of air down her throat, her heart beating madly. Disjointedly she got to her feet, the cloak on her shoulders slipping and fluttering to the ground, entwining itself in her legs as she hastily stumbled forward. The shaded water was before her, twisting through the dark on its way to the horizon. Its sound and the cold light of the waxing moon added to her confusion. It drove her backwards in the direction of her resting place, an unappeasable disquiet upon her. Her heel caught on a rock, tripping her backwards onto the ground. For a brief second she lay there, barely able to understand the blood pumping in her veins and that she was alive and whole. Images from her nightmares invaded her mind, specked with memories of her Aunt singing the same song to her when she was little.

**_I just died, I'm Elena Lock! No I didn't, I was her a second ago in my dream, but she diedin itand that man was going to…oh my-_**

Panic seized her as she abruptly felt a grip on her arm, and desperately she tried to twist away within a blind second, her throat constricted with fright. The hand managed to hold her, and she swung around wildly, relief washing over her as she instantly saw Boromir in the dim light. A disturbed concern was in his eyes as he beheld her, but he only silently coaxed her towards him, attempting to soothe her anxiety.

* * *

''1'' Varda: One of the Valar, she created the stars. 

Interesting/boring points: The moon in the dream would be a waning gibbous moon, where it appears to be more than one-half full, but is not completely illuminated by direct sunlight. The fraction of the Moon's disk that is illuminated is still decreasing as it happens. Eva's moon would be a waxing gibbous, where the Moon appears to be more than one-half but is not fully illuminated by direct sunlight. The fraction of the Moon's disk that is illuminated is increasing.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**A/N: **Was this a bit strange?

Copyright notes: 

The first verses are from Tolkien's, "The Lay of Eärendil."

The second song verses are altered from, "The Meeting of the Waters."


	16. Ch: 16 Land Forsaken

KEY . . . gap of time - - separate events

(Note this chapter is a slight jump in events)

_-This and the rest to Clover, my stoic little dog, I'll miss you forever._

Chapter Sixteen: Land Forsaken

_"I have been young, and now am old;_

_yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken,_

_nor his seed begging bread."_

_"Thou has left behind  
Powers that will work for thee,—air, earth, and skies!  
There 's not a breathing of the common wind  
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;  
Thy friends are exultations, agonies…"_

_-William Wordsworth_

_"My native land, good night!"_

_-Lord Byron_

**Aster, Missouri, 1928**

It was a dry dusty morning, the air stifling and thick enough to choke on. The farmlands between the Stone and Dart Creeks known as "The Rill" were particularly hard hit by a rough growing season. Like the other innumerable days that summer, it was under the spell of a drought, the most persistent since the 1890s. It was hardest for Hollinger at Creek Halls Farm, who seemed to be living under a shadow since he moved there. His money depended on agriculture and production this year; since it was rumored, he had long been trying to sell the farmland. The crops crumbled at the lightest touch over heat-cracked ground; useless farm hands like old Thomas Moray would kneel in the field, weeping for the land and its fallen glory with its mistress. Even the stream could not save them; it had withered and collapsed, barely gathering over the stones that once sat at its bottom. This day was different only through its assigned merit of a special occasion, the Hollinger-Marshall wedding.

Several automobiles were parked bumper to bumper in the driveway, one decked out in bright flowers that had grown in healthy areas out of town, like Prairie Point and Brimston. The yellow Victorian farmhouse stood tall over the path, its peak sharp against the sunlight. Through the tall blank windows could be heard tumultuous activity of hurrying feet, clanging pans, and voices.

After a shout, the front door suddenly burst open from a powerful force that shuddered the glass and rattled it on the hinges. A short girl stumbled through the opening, hands held over her head as she tripped down to the porch stairs. Two pans of black encrusted pie were thrown after her, clanging onto the floor and splattering all over her apron. One moment later, a reedy but pretty woman appeared, her hair damp and tightly rolled in bundles that would later set as curls. The head of a woman (in her twenties) peered around the corner of the lintel, eyes wide and sympathetic as she silently supported her fellow.

The middle-aged woman shook her head and a finger. "Pathetic nuisance, you ruined the pies!" she snapped down at the shuddering figure. A highly polished shoe stomped the floor and swung in the girl's direction. "Those conniving Lynches paid you to do this, I know they did. I will not let you ruin my wedding!"

"Ma'am," the woman whispered from the doorway. "Anna didn't do anything; she's been here since her mother died three years ago working for Ms. Lock-"

"Silence, Ruth. Go take care of Keith; he mustn't get in the way."

"Yes," she said anxiously before scampering off.

At the stroke of noon, the sound of distant muffled bells rang through the warm country air, saluting the day. The few people left behind in the Rill did not hear it through their flurry of activity; most of them were hired help running in and out of the farms. From far away, a heavily loaded truck could be seen rumbling up the road from the Marshall place, spluttering dust and gravel before it turned into Creek Halls. It screeched and groaned to a stop in the circular drive, causing the animals to exclaim from nearby pastures. Several swarthy and unfriendly looking men jumped from the back and yelled toward the house and barn.

"We got the rest of lady's stuff in here; it needs to go in that house."

"Moray, Stewart, get yer rears out here."

Two men stomped from the out buildings, a weathered man in his fifties with a hat pulled low over his eyes, the other a man in his thirties with well-muscled arms and sandy blond hair. They were not thrilled to see the new comers, but kept comments and looks to between themselves.

The older man straightened his hat and looked angrily at the shortest of the three men. "Now see here, I've been at this place a lot longer than you, before even Missus Lock was born. I'll be giving the orders, whether or not these are Miss Marshall's belongings," he said, then motioned to the younger man. "Frank too has more say so than all you put together."

"Big mouth Moray-"

The men scowled at one another and broke out into raging shouts, so loud that they could not comprehend what the other was saying. Faces appeared in the tall Victorian windows of the farmhouse, inquisitively watching the scene that played out in the front yard. Finally, two harassed looking woman barged from the front door, their dresses splotched with filth and food, pots in their hands.

"You all need to shut up! The girls can't concentrate in the kitchen, and we got only a few hours till the Hollingers get here."

"Anna even had to lie down with a headache from your bellyaching."

Yelling increased and the women flailed their arms about, seeming very annoyed with the truck driving individuals. Slowly doors opened again, and one by one other maids and serfs came onto the porch or in from the fields, unable to work with such a distraction. Some watched delightedly as the men lost it, swinging heavily with fists and feet until someone ended up sprawling with them on the ground.

Twenty minutes later, the group finally fragmented as the women regained control, threatening to call the sheriff, then making Stewart and Moray lead the other men around to the back entrance. In a quick passing moment, everyone turned to the house and shrieks went up as they saw a horrific sight that had grown during their time of neglect. An abnormal amount of smoke billowed from the chimney, and in the side windows of the kitchen, could be seen flickering light that came from fire. Everyone scrambled for the buckets, sacks, and pumps, desperately calling instructions to one another in attempt to work together.

It was too late. Within hours, the flames spread out of control, eating and tearing away at the wooden house and everything within reach. The roof blazed with flame and sparks uplifted by the moving dry air, then caught the trees and other buildings. Before the walls of the barn began to fall with creaks and groans, crackling and snapping echoed from the burning fields. The rivulets of fire spread until they were battled by fire fighters or nearly hemmed in on the east by the dying stream. Dark smoky clouds blotted out the sky, swirling in choking plumes that overhung Creek Halls like a thick shadow.

**- - - - - -**

**St. Louis, Missouri, 1929**

The boy lay pale against his white sheets, his hair mussed over half closed eyes. On his face was the long held grief of his robbed childhood, worth more than his short twelve years. The fingers of his left hand clutched at the soft brown arm of a stuffed bear beside him, the other hand was tucked in the bigger one of a woman. Every once in a while his brown eyes would meet hers, and for a moment share comfort. His breathing was loud but flat, each intake of air echoing through out the cavernous hospital room.

Fever and sickness had overwhelmed him and worn his body over many days. Weakly he lifted the corners of his mouth at her before turning away and closing his eyes for some rest. It was the last time Keith Lock ever smiled at his Aunt Aileen.

**- - - - - -**

**Creek Halls, 1993**

Gravel flew from beneath the tires of the blue station wagon, which rolled steadily and noiselessly through the countryside. Two people sat in the front seat, talking away frivolously over the softly playing radio in the background. At the wheel was a kindly looking man about fifty years old, his hair stuck on end as if wind had struck it. The woman next to him was in her mid-forties, but exuded wisdom and grace beyond her years. Her light hair was pulled back in an elastic band from her sun-touched face and long, curve tipped nose. Her grey eyes compassionately and curiously studied the car's only other passenger snuggled in the back seat. The girl had been constantly silent and morose until she'd drifted off with the radio. Though they were childless, the Dales knew it was a bit odd for twelve year olds to be so quiet.

A wavy sheet of hair fell over part of her face, revealing a rounded nose and a portion of pale skin. It made her seem young and vulnerable to the grief that clung to her. A protective instinct welled in Maggie as she gazed repeatedly at the child. A stuffed horse was surreptitiously held beneath a folded arm, her sneakered feet curled up beside her on the seat.

Noticing his wife's distraction, John patted her back and glanced briefly in the mirror at his niece. "She'll be all right. She's a tough little one." He pointed at lines of building that paralleled the highway, then smiled. "Aster. See we're almost home."

The houses considerably thinned and spread out fifteen minutes later as they returned into the countryside again. The rougher road surface had budged Eva awake by this time, and she sat unblinkingly staring out the window. Though her family had strong roots in Aster, she'd never seen the area. Her life had been spent thus far in stone and turf grassed urban areas. It was a drastic turning point that she was moving in with her country relatives.

The two weeks after her parent's funeral had been spent in her grandfather's vast empty (and somewhat smelly) condo, with a maid. The moment she had arrived there, it was an unspoken rule that she would not cry or mention her parents, whose dying seemed like a catastrophic failure to the old Lynch businessman. He had not kept it a secret that he thought it a mistake to send Eva off with the Dales at Creek Halls, a place that he loathed and wished to rid from the Lynch name. According to tradition, it was not his decision and still Elena's shadow lay unmoved, a lonely curse that would bind their blood and land until it was time.

Tall oaks and wooden fences hemmed the road before the car swayed and edged into a hidden turn of gravel nestled beneath a leaved canopy. The brakes squeaked as Uncle John rolled into a driveway and turned to his passengers as they exited the vehicle.

"This is it, all Aunt Maggie's," he said proudly.

On a flattened hill in front of them rose a white farmhouse; opposite stood a series of farm buildings, including a barn and to Eva's delight, a stable. Green corn stalks taller than a man clustered into the distance beyond these structures, until it reached a forested area.

"Your pony will be able to run all over there," Maggie added. She helped point out the rich pasture beyond the house, which skirted a small rocky creek. "And you can see the horses from the house as they graze."

Gently she touched her niece's hand, and received a curious look in return, a brighter expression in Eva's eyes. The woman's smile had calmed her, and the sunlight gleaming through gold-snared locks had melted her icy aloofness. Her hand suddenly clutched Maggie's and together they went into the farmhouse, a small gesture of truly accepting her into the Lynch heritage.

At the end of a brief tour, everyone retired to the living room couch, quickly snatching up the homemade biscuits and milk before them. Eva's inquisitive blue eyes roved around the room, ignoring her guardians' studious gaze. Near an open window, a peculiar old picture drew her attention, seeming watchful and settled in its place on the wall. The wooden frame was very old, its edges patterned with water and scorch marks. It held a singed grey photo of several adults and children; the rightmost man was completely burned off through his middle.

In the center, two women were dignifiedly sitting in chairs, each held at the shoulder by the man next to them. The taller one had deep steady eyes beneath her long dark hair, a rounded nose and perceptiveness on her thin but smirking face. The shorter woman was somewhat older, but she was fierier and more elegant, blond hair pulled back from her wide eyes and full cheeks. A boy and girl were seated on short stools in front of them, each of them grasping a hand of their mothers. Quirky identical smiles were plastered on their faces, but the girl had a mop of blond waves, while the boy's was dark and straight. An older boy with intense eyes and short dark locks stood with a related looking (but weak) man behind him, his features like the shorter lady's. Next to the tall woman's chair stood the youngest boy of all, with medium light hair like that of the burned man, and an upturned nose at the camera.

Noticing Eva's captured interest, Maggie leaned forward in her seat, pointing at the different people in the picture. "Unfortunately the photo was damaged when the first farmhouse burned down in 1929, but all of them there are your grandfather's family. You have a lot of great-aunt Elena's mien." Then she directed her to the smaller frames next to it on the wall, where snapshots of relatives hung, including Eva's parents, and a much older Marie hugging her young niece Maggie.

Eva turned away from the painful sight of her parents, and darted her eyes around the room , mumbling, "I was looking at something else."

Instead, she faced the mantle above the fireplace, where a type of wooden plaque stood on a forty-five degree angle, displaying two mounted metal circles. Their gold surfaces were worn considerably, but both had their original inlaid emerald, and distinctive pattern of a horse, spreading tree branches and tiny diamond shaped markings.

"We brought those back from our honeymoon in southern England. That was a very long time ago," Uncle John said musingly.

Maggie elbowed him jokingly. "It was not, I'm still young!"

**Two weeks later…**

Warm chocolately smells wafted through the kitchen air as Maggie fiddled with the oven knobs, then lifted a metal tray of cookies onto the counter. She nodded in Eva's direction, who was busily pounding balls of dough into flat circles.

"I'm glad this batch came out all right. With you helping it goes quicker. These will be ready in time for the sale."

Her niece lifted her head and grinned broadly, extremely proud that she was useful. Aunt Maggie pinched a bit of cookie dough from the bowl, smiling secretively. "Plus I can sneak the ingredients." Eva laughed with her, but both stopped as they heard the doorbell ring loudly. "I wonder who that is," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

They went to the front door, and were surprised to find a short elderly lady standing on the porch. She nodded in greeting to them, but shy Eva stood behind her Aunt, ogling the stranger. Unfortunately the woman kept looking at her too, visibly astounded for some reason.

Maggie started, but her face instantly perked with recognition. "Nice to see you, what brings you over here?"

The woman held up several hand-woven baskets in each hand. "My granddaughters finished these yesterday for the fundraiser. I thought I'd get out and bring 'em over."

"Thank you so much, I was just making the cookies with my niece." Kindly she nudged the girl from behind her. "This is Eva Lynch. Eva, this is Mrs. Stewart, she lives down the road."

"Hello Mrs. Stewart," she said quietly.

"Oh, call me Ms. Ann." Mrs. Stewart chuckled a bit. "Margaret, she's beautiful. I can tell she's from the Lynch lines. And one thing-" The old woman carefully reached into a pocket of her dress and handed over a small wooden box to Eva. "This was in the driveway, I guess it's yours."

"Thank you," Maggie said, as she turned away. "I'll let you know when everything is ready." She turned to Eva, who was curiously examining the box and having a hard time opening it. "That was nice of her to return it."

"It isn't mine," her niece answered confusedly. "But my initials are on it, and the lid won't move."

Maggie leaned in and tapped it several times. "It isn't possible she found that in the driveway, it's at least a hundred years old!"

Either could hardly know that she was right, and that three days later Mrs. Anna Stewart would pass away.

**- - - - - -**

**Present Time…Aster, MO…**

The sun was nearly gone as Jake Langley peered in the rear view mirror once more, smiling knowingly at his children in the back seat. His thirteen-year-old daughter Carrie was slumped in the seat staring out the window, his sixteen-year-old son Jordan was avidly playing his Game Boy Advanced. His wife sitting next to him scolded their son once more for having the game volume too high, because the baby in her lap was beginning to stir. Irately the teenager turned it off, joining his sister in staring at the landscape.

"It's only a little further till home," their father said soothingly, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. Jake could not blame anyone for having short tempers; the family had spent an exhausting day at the water park with his brother in St. Louis. "See, we're nearing the Lynches," he added, pointing at a mailbox sticking out of a tree veiled driveway ahead of them.

Unexpectedly the grey clouds rolling overhead rumbled with thunder and lit up with lightning. A bolt cracked over a nearby field on their right. Without warning, two large shapes burst onto the road, causing Jake to slam on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, its momentum swaying its passengers slightly. A few drops of rain began to hit the windshield, and he flicked on the brights to make out what the things were.

"What the heck?" he muttered, and looked at his wife, seeing the same shock in her eyes.

He motioned to his now alert son, slowly getting with him out of the car. Their steps were silent as they approached the shapes, hands out in front of them. The headlights cast an eerie glow in the night, allowing them to perfectly see the two equines circling in front of them. As they came closer, the tall quarter horse threw his head, the whites of his eyes showing. The smaller, a ruffled Welsh pony came warily but happily toward the younger Langley, familiar and fond of children, no matter how old they were. Jake almost had his hand on the horse's halter, when he shouted. A metal edged hoof surprised him as it came flying in his direction.

The barn lights cast deep shadows on the figures in its corridor, showing four males talking rapidly. They motioned occasionally to the stalls in front of them, where a pony's head stuck out of one, watching them curiously. One of the men with a badge labeled, "Deputy Newton," pointed at the stall marked with a metal plaque reading, "Blitz."

"Sir, we should destroy him. After he nearly killed a civilian and he is injured."

A weary looking man looked at his junior partner, stroking his mustache habitually, a star marked, "Sheriff," on his chest. Jake Langley glared at the deputy, patting his newly bandaged arm almost good-naturedly.

"The boy barely nicked me."

The other three stared at him, but his son finally broke the looming tension, eagerly nodding. "Yeah he's a good horse. He's only cut on the belly and one bad spot near his ankle. He must've gotten it when he escaped from the barn."

"There you go," the Sheriff said, throwing an arm in the air, and smiling. "Besides I wouldn't have authority to do that without Miss Lynch's permission. I will be issuing a citation, but that's none of your business. I feel bad bothering folks at this hour anyway-"

"Dad?" Carrie Langley appeared in the barn entrance, disconcerted as she looked at the men. They'd sent her up to the house to fetch Eva when no one came out to investigate the lights in the barn. "No one answered, and the door was wide open."

The group shared a glance and immediately started for the farmhouse, knowing something was afoot.

**Whit Farm, "The Rill," Aster, Missouri, days later…**

A short bony woman carefully straightened from in front of an oven, a hot metal pan precariously held in her hands. She lifted it over to an empty space on the tiled counter, brushing the brown crumbs from her hands as she glanced out the window. Immediately she screamed as a chicken hopped crazily into the flower box hanging outside. In panic, her elbow hit the pan in fright making it smash to the floor. The animal fluttered away hurriedly as a mass of white fur hurled after it, knocking over the window box and streaking after the bird. Horrified, Mrs. Whit saw it was a cat after her chicken, the flock scattered everywhere in the yard below. Another hen came madly at the window, and she screamed even louder as she slammed the window shut. Decisively she picked up a broom, and flew out to the yard, pursuing the chase of prey.

_Half an hour later…_

Seth worriedly watched his mother, his hand outspread in front of her kept her from moving forward. A wild insane look was on her face as she stared at the white cat she had cornered in the barn. Her thin brown hair was unkempt and stringy with sweat around her face, dust and straw on her clothes, two gaping holes in the knees of her pants. Obviously, she was ready to avenge the fallen half-eaten birds in her yard, three prized Cochins having served as this animal's meal over the last few days. Seth stayed her, recognizing the stray and the metal tags around his neck that read, "Nahar."

The cat had little regard for his predicament; he lazily licked the stains off his paws, which were only a small portion of the red and feather splatter stuck in his coat.

"That's Eva's cat," Seth explained.

Despite negative feelings, he was still inclined to be kind to every animal, no matter whose it was.

"Well, all the more reason," his mother said harshly. "Why is the darn thing over here anyway?"

He shook his head and pulled the broom in his direction. The movement distracted her momentarily, allowing Nahar to safely leap away.

Frowning, he watched the cat go. "I'm not sure, he usually only gets out when no one is at home."

"I don't care; I'm still calling the Sheriff." She thrust the broom at him and stomped on her way back to the house.

**- - - - - -**

**Creek Halls, one month later…**

The barn door closed securely with a dull thud as a hand pushed on it roughly, making sure it was locked. The axle of the wheelbarrow creaked as it wheeled along, supported and directed in back by its operator, Jordan Langley. At the driveway, he stopped suddenly and peered around, huffing irately as he saw his sister was no longer on the front porch of the short white farmhouse. He spotted her off in the distance, carelessly ambling by the stream that skirted the edge of the farm.

"I thought I told you to stay on the porch," he yelled out to her.

She looked up at him, but listlessly shrugged her shoulders before walking again, kicking rocks and watching the water. Shaking his head, he picked up the wheelbarrow, and continued over to the compost heap to dump his burden of horse manure and soiled straw. Since Miss Lynch had disappeared, he'd been taking care of her equines and cat for her, so that he potentially would be paid when she returned. Unfortunately, it meant taking his little sister Carrie with to the farm, so she could be baby-sat and take care of the plants as he did with the animals. As a little sister she got constantly underfoot, and had to be under his hawk-eyed watch until they got home, for fear she would disappear too. It was the main talk of the town lately, since Creek Hall's owner seemed to have simply evaporated. Being there was a little creepy, especially now that the place was deserted, and the yellow crime scene tape still hung in places like doors and fences.

Staying by the creek, Carrie Langley continued to ignore her brother, whose bossiness was beginning to get on her nerves today. She did not have anything to do but wait for him, since all the plants and flowers around the farm had wilted before she started to care for them. The once ethereal beauty of colors and blossoms had dimmed since the disappearance had lingered over the land, swallowing up light and sound into a bottomless abyss of desertion.

Even the waters of Stone Creek had lost all melody, its waves silent as they ran by her feet. She randomly kicked a rock into the water, and started a bit as it made a gentle plopping noise. Ripples echoed from its landing place, and she stared at the water as it slightly shimmered in the sunlight. Automatically she kneeled on the bank, and pulled an object from the water, studying it with wonder. It was a bracelet with silver links and an engraved charm that had the initials, "EL." Not knowing where it possibly could have come from, she surreptitiously slipped it in her pocket, deciding to take care of it later.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Oops I did not mean for a character in this chapter to have a similar name to another I've been working on withSicily BeanThey are in no way connected, oki doki? I'm sorry this took so much time, on 9/11 we had to put down my dying dog Clover, since he was suffering from intestinal failure and the anorexia that resulted from it. I'll try to work fast on the next chapter, I haven't abandoned anyone. (Except maybe Rumil on the side of the road).

Rumil: I heard that.

- - - -- - --

_Story Notes:_

Alignment in the Photo:

Aileen's husband – Aileen- Elena-Samuel-(Sean Hollinger)

-Michael -Marie- Keith

Note: (Aileen is Elena's sister, Michael & Marie's mother) (Elena is Sean Hollinger's wife, Samuel and Keith's mother)


	17. Ch 17: Shadowed Path

_((Author's Note! Etc…)) _Interrupting Author's note on upcoming paragraph.

(bla bla bla) translation

Chapter Seventeen: Shadowed Path

"Hence, horrible shadow!

Unreal mockery, hence!

William Shakespeare

This Life is a fleeting breath,  
And whither and how shall I go,  
When I wander away…  
By a path that I do not know?

Louise Chandler Moulton

**September 1st**

The dawn broke clear and bright on the horizon, waking the travelers early but later than usual. There was little conversation between them during breakfast, the weariness of night still hanging over their minds. Erratically he would gaze at Eva or say a small word to her, very worried about her condition. For most of the morning, she was quiet and passive, completely different from her usual self. The moved look in her eyes was familiar and daunting, like the haunted shroud that befell young soldiers for a time after their first battle and discovery of how bloody the world could be.

She was quick and skittish while picking up their dry belongings purposely strewn about from the previous day. Her things were together and ready on Hæstapa's back before her companion had even finished packing, but Théodred's gift was left lying with the Gondorian weaponry on the ground. While Eva went off to dress, Boromir roused the mare from a dreamlike stupor. As he stood at her side, she tossed her fine russet head, and bumped him sharply with her shoulder. The items flew from his arms, and he groaned irately as he stooped to get them.

"Needn't be so restless," he growled, reaching for Eva's sword.

Unfortunately, the handle scratched across the hilt from hitting rocks as it fell, and the mount at the scabbard's top bent out at a bad angle. It slid slightly on the leather as he jiggled it curiously.

"What are you doing?" Eva said suddenly behind him. Arbitrarily she dropped her cloak corner and looked at him expectantly.

He stood and folded the scabbard firmly in her flaccid hands, pointing out the damage. "It had an unlucky mishap. Keep close this sword, for danger may lie unknown behind the next bend."

.-.-.-.

They moved forward as the sun rose in the blue-grey sky, bringing the closer from the northwest. Though the path was well packed, Hæstapa's movement was quicker and more uneven than normal, a subtle tenseness flowing through her walk. They had only gone for a while, when Eva curiously paused the horse, a peculiar sight having caught her attention. Far beyond the low southern foot of the mountains, a strange series of stone peaks rose in the distance, too dimensional and skinny to be natural.

_That's very strange, and yet..._

"Is that a building over there?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, it is Orthanc, Gondor's northernmost fortress in the Nan Curunír."

Hæstapa's tail flicked and ears pricked in its direction as her riders fiddled with the reins. A bit further on, a coppice-choked gap in the crag exposed more of the curio to their sight. A black tower of Númenorean stonework stood impregnable and imposing, slatted in the shadows of the Hithaeglir. Stems of grey rose from below Orthanc and coiled like sly snakes around its tiers in a sinister patience.

Afterward, Boromir sat rigid in the saddle as he watched the road ahead, occasionally squeezing her waist to keep her alert.

"From now onward, we shall not lag on the trail. Isengard is a marker of the wild soon ahead, and its indefinite peril."

Stirred from worry, she looked at him over her shoulder. "What kind of peril?"

A tense soldiery instinct rose in him as he gazed back at her, clearly troubled. "Ruthless Men, dark creatures, unknown beings, nigh endless territory, little food…"

"Yay."

.-.-.-.

The two travelers were not very sociable over the next days of the journey. Boromir was increasingly unsettled most of the time, and Eva constantly tried to forget the nightmares that had sunk her spirit. Their days were purposefully longer and darker, the sun hiding behind the mountaintops of the east whilst they journeyed on. They left the Gap of Rohan and the shadows that dwelt there, to beyond the grassland that gradually was consumed with more scrub and brushwood. The North South road was worn and barely distinguishable at their feet, but the occasional stone markers and Boromir's incessant map checking kept them on route.

The ground was rougher and the surroundings more foreign than Rohan, but beneath Boromir's arms, the world was safe. Little by little, she returned from her inward retreat, comforted by the strength of her companion and the grace of the animal which bore them at will.

**September 3rd **

The wind picked up early afternoon, swirling through the late leaves and black winged Birds above. Hæstapa was faithfully plodding along, when suddenly her leg slued. Her weight jarred the saddle and forced her into a stop that almost toppled her over. Shocked, Boromir visually checked her over, and urged her forward.

When she did not budge, he commanded her and said firmly, "Go on, girl. Hæstapa." An ear flipped in his direction, but she stood steadfast. "Go on, you."

Bewildered and half-asleep, Eva lifted back her hood, giving him a wry look. "A little louder please. What are you doing?"

"Stubborn- refuses to move."

"Something's wrong then," she said, slipping down to the ground.

"Yes, she will not listen," he explained exasperatedly. "Now come up here."

Rolling her eyes, she decisively jerked the reins from him. "Get off please. I need to examine her."

"Is this necessary? We're wasting enough time-" All resolve failing, he disengaged from the saddle and joined her on the ground. "How long will this take?"

Eva ran a hand over the smooth red hide, and shook her head. "I'm not sure, but clearly she is favoring her right fore-"

"Wonderful," he groaned. Distractedly he detached the water skins from the packs and held them up. "I'll replenish our supply. You remain with the horse." It was hard for her not to smile as he shook a finger then trudged off into the shrubbery. "Females."

Turning to her task ahead, Eva sighed worriedly, and kneeled beside her four-legged companion to begin her work. By the time Boromir returned, she had located the source of the mare's pain, and removed sharp rocks and peculiarly spiked shards of metal lodged in her hooves. Before he could ask, she held up her finds and spoke.

"Strangely, all this was wedged in her sole and frog. It stuck her pretty good and strained her legs. I've never seen it before," she said, musing and troubled. Her companion's eyes steadily fixed on them, his face distant, until she nudged him slightly. "Boromir."

"Hmm?"

"Luckily everything's in tact; she's just somewhat sore," she said conclusively.

"Anything-"

"I relieved it and rubbed her down. We can ride in another hour or two."

He glanced at their surroundings and reluctantly gave in. "Very well, this shall be our meal and rest time."

They sat down on the stone littered ground to dried meat and bread called cram. When she was finished, Eva sullenly held the crust from her meal, crumbling it slowly into pieces.

_I feel like this bread, everything's just falling apart. Is something going to happen... Passing here is disheartening. It's dark and thorny…the horse suffering like that-_

Without warning, Boromir rested his hand on her wrist, and pulled her up so she was standing close to him. "You should eat that and what you can, when you are able, to keep up strength."

"I'm not very hungry. Usually, I don't need a lot."

"Then our rations shall be in good standing," he joked, then turned serious. "I want you to see something." Evocatively he pulled her hand, and led her off through the trees. Shortly, they came upon a small creek dribbling in the midst of a wide clearing. It was scattered with many large strangely hewn boulders and an unnaturally shaped hill of great size. "I found our water here, but hunger and hardship shall inevitably come later. This part of the journey is easy. Here the land was once thick with Rohirrim farms and settlements."

"What happened to them?" she asked quietly.

Motioning to the hill grass covered with white flowers, he said resignedly, "They continue to dwell here. Every man, woman and child was murdered by vengeful Dunlendings in a great ransack long ago."

Silently they separated to stalk among the barrow inquisitively, until Eva inadvertently tripped along the clearing's edge. When she had regained her wits, she got to her feet and suddenly screamed at a sight upon the ground. Startled, her companion bounded to her side, his drawn sword held high.

"What's wrong…Valar!"

"Nothing-well it's…dead-and oh eww!" Her voice caught and she hid her face as she stumbled several yards away from the spot.

Stunned, Boromir lowered his weapon and bent on his knee to cautiously examine the oddity. ((_Author's Note! Skip next two sentences if you're squeamish. )) _In the center of the beaten brush were a strewn pair of broken lifeless elk, their bodies callously torn and headless. The ground and surrounding stone shone a heavy red that made even him feel queasy. Uneasily he began to step among the scene, surveying the ghastly remains.

Wishing to be away from the scene, Eva unhappily made her way on the worn areas along the fringe of the slaughter. She turned her face to the north, only glancing once or twice to see what Boromir was doing. Near some of the diverging shrubbery, she paused to discontentedly sit on the ground, lifting the hood of the cloak to her head and crunching low.

_I cannot believe it. Why in the world is this here? What savagery was this?_

Ahead of her stretched the lengthy shadows of the trees, sunlight sifting through branches to the earth below. The hem of her cloak hung above her eyelashes, elbows folded in as she stared listlessly at the ground, kicking pebbles with her boot. For the long three minutes, she sat there, the packed greenless earth holding her attention. Boromir's concern turned to their surroundings, and she heard him stalk away, his voice cautious and prompt.

"Linger here, I must assay the surroundings, I fear parlous affairs are afoot."

Barely she acknowledged his words with a nod before turning to face him, but he had disappeared into the deep brush. Broodingly she dropped her chin into a hand, and continued her earlier meditation on the barrow. A muted bugling moan from far off startled her, but it dismissed itself as the wild call of a moose or elk. After fifteen minutes, her senses unwittingly attuned to the air and encompassment, until she heard the whispering leaves and distant longings of songbirds. A soft rustling began to meet her ears, and she mindlessly called to her companion, hoping for his fast return.

"Boromir." When he did not answer or make another sound, she called him more beckoningly. Still he did not respond.

Lifting her head, she stared at the swaying branches beyond the barrow, mystified and angry. Purposefully she rose and hurried towards the quiet man made sounds, eager to leave and see if anything was found. The young branches easily pushed aside and fell behind her like grey shutters, enmeshing her in a thicket of dim sunlight. She moved aside more leafy arms and ducked beneath a thick low branch, gaining access to a clearer part of the entangled growth.

She only took a few steps, when suddenly something large and heavy smashed into the back of her head. It threw her forward, sending searing pain through her skull. Her body collided with the ground, the hard solid earth wholly clouting each bone and the air from her lungs. Dazedly she gasped, dry and desperate for air as she tried to turn over. Another furtive hit struck her in the left shoulder, slamming her back onto the ground. A direct fleshy blow met her face, followed by a heavy weight on her torso. Wildly her hands flew in front of her, but another landed on her cheek. Her cloak noosed as she was thrown against a trunk, fingers clenching her neck to jolt her head against the bark.

Her scrambled spinning sight abruptly focused, and a thick scraggly man appeared before her, sneering and clacking his teeth at her. His hair and beard were matted black, his glaring eyes muddy and piercing. A nasty white scar emblazoned the right side of his rough face. His clothes were ragged and filthy, stained wet with a reddish brown. A distinct smell emanated from him, like he'd been sweating outside for quite a while. Immediately she screamed.

A club-like object dropped from his hand as he grabbed her arm, shaking her loosely and aggressively. Her head slammed against the bark, but she impulsively flayed an arm back towards him, catching his jaw. Infuriately she shoved him away, squarely kicking him in the stomach. Slightly stumbling, she dodged from the tree to escape, but suddenly her leg wrenched backward with the cloak, throwing her off balance. Her hood slipped off and her braid tumbled out, thrashing the ground as she fell. She shouted in surprise at the heavy man's charge into her, his weight rolling onto her chest. Instantly a band of calloused fingers clamped onto her neck, gripping at her pulsing breath.

"Bi sàmhach, bides!" he growled, his voice eerie and foreign.

"Let- me _go_!" she yelled.

**"Cò th' agam!"**

"Stop!" she exclaimed.

Her fingers clawed his flesh and ripped at wild knotted hair, but the strength withered from her body. The hands inescapably tightened on her neck, until she could barely breathe.

"Bann- baoghalta," he said snidely. (Foolish woman.)

Sharp pain grated on her throat like gravel and collapsed inward onto her mind, sending her sight swimming. Frantically she struggled to catch precious air, lift her powerless limbs, and hold onto consciousness, life…The attacker grinned vengefully as his victim shuddered with tense anguish, eyes rolling backwards into her head. Eva's heart seemed to madly struggle for each second, the world fading into a bleak void.

Suddenly a voice spoke far away, and the sound of footsteps approached. "Daeg, cò airson e rothais?" (Daeg, what did you find?)

The hands disappeared from her neck, and her attacker's similar but deeper voice answered, "Hacca. A seo, gadaiche!" (Hacca. Here, a robber!)

"Coigreachoil. Bi cò èid cràdhadh caileag ris?" (Strange. What did you hurt the girl with?)

The sweet brilliant air slowly entered her flat lungs, and a stinging jolt snapped her to awareness as something thin ripped from around her neck. Her eyes opened to find two congruous but dreadfully blurred figures standing above her, gesturing downwards.

Her breath escaped her in a moan, but was interrupted by a thin metal feeling on her neck, one of the blurs next to her face. A hand tightly twisted the cloak around her neck, lifting her head slightly off the ground.

"Bi sàmhach, forgoil bides." (Be quiet, strawhead wench.)

"Feuch mas bhràthair. Mi cuimhnich thu th'aig mór fireannaich. Beag a forgoil" (Be careful brother. I think she is from the high folk. Not the strawheads.)

"Le beachd dhomh, sin th' mórán dhiubh faisg." (As far as I know, there are many of them near.)

"Dh'fhaodadh, gun luaidh air seo amharas. Na damh a is cinnteach dul an bi." (Perhaps, never mind these bad thoughts. Our stags must be attended to.)

Eva's head pounded harder, dipping her in and out of awareness until she could no longer follow the tone of the conversation. The cold metal slid across her neck, making her tremor with recognition; it was a dagger.

"Cò th' agam?" asked a voice above her.

"Go rot," she muttered.

The blade pushed harder against her neck and the brute repeated threateningly in plain Westron, "Name yourself."

A heavy set hand caught her cheek, but she remained silent, angrily spitting at the hazy wild man in front of her. Disgustedly he wiped his cheek and punched a fist twice into her abdomen. The blows struck agony to her core, causing her to clutch her stomach and glare forcefully.

"Giors gu oirre," the other said with a hint of surprise.

The pain ate through her body, bringing her to the brink of collapse. She sank into the hollow pounding presence of herself, praying to the heavens, wishing for home, peace, and Boromir. Her raw stinging hands protectively crossed her sides, thoughts rushing through her mind like a river.

Boromir_ doesn't know about them, what if he gets hurt? He can't, there are things he has to do. **I'm** not important…_

The cold sharpness sank tortuously into the skin of her neck, making her outer consciousness lock eyes with the attacker. The red thirsty flame in his pupils no longer affected her, the darkness of oblivion overwhelming her sight. She knew death was coming.

.-.-.-.

The shadow whispered among the leaves, silently hovering near a bank of undergrowth to survey its newfound prey. Grey silvery wrath stirred within its depths as it transfixed upon the blood and anguish, a surge of desperation suddenly hurtling it through the branches. Unexpectedly it crashed onto the wretched pair, masterfully hewing them down before either raised an arm. A sword flickered deadly in the filtered light, striking with force of pure strength. The miscreants crumpled to the ground with sighing grunts, their weapons rolling soundlessly away across the stranded leaves.

The shadows uncloaked the tall dark Man as he mercilessly hit them a final time, ensuring their demise. Immediately he sheathed his sword, dropping to his knees beside the limp form on the ground. His calloused hands tenderly traced the bruises and sluices of blood across her neck and face, his heart wrenching in dread. Each breath he took was tight and bated, straining his composure against cracking. Carefully he tilted her head back, softly pressing upon her throat and lips to search for a sign of life. In answer, faint wells of pulsing air and heartbeat met his fingers. Whispering, he called her name, rubbing her hand warmly and hopefully.

.-.-.-.

A distant glimmer of light abruptly exploded across Eva's vision, the faded numbness drowned by unwelcome cold and pain. Her chest gasped inward, consciousness overtaking her with panic. Evil eyes of red and yellow flashed across her mind with the image of a re dropping red dagger, all flashing menacingly at her. A bearded face emerged above her, startling her so badly that she quaked. Her eyes met Boromir's with remembered terror and relief, words bubbling to her throat, but only a raspy choke escaping. Calmly he lifted her to his chest, hands soothingly stroking her hair and back.

"Shh. Eva, the Dunlendings are dead. I am here."

Unexpectedly she recoiled from a misguided touch, catching her breath in a hiss and cringing. He leaned closer to her and lightly slipped his hand down her side, passing over it with a fixated look. He met her eyes with a serious depth, calming her frazzled nerves.

"You will be that way for some time. Thank the Valar for no broken bones, you took their pummeling like a soldier." She raised an eyebrow wonderingly at him, making him sheepish. "I checked while attempting to revive you. I always wish to protect you whenever I may. A small fracture may have proved disastrous for you."

Weakly she touched his stubbled cheek, clutching at him in a loose embrace and sighing a thank you to him. He glanced over her shoulder towards the fallen assailants, squeezing her slightly but protectively. He caressed the hand on his shoulder and gently removed it, looking at her reassuringly.

"Stay here."

Confusingly he let her go, his footsteps halting and quiet as he explored the clearing around the Dunlendings. Disgustedly he picked among their belongings, pulling out contents here and there, taking their supplies, weapons, and a broken gold necklace he knew belonged to Eva. Surprisingly he returned to tuck several things onto her belt, then secured the fastenings of her cloak. Helpingly he made her drink from the water satchel, afterwards returning it to his side with his new burdens.

"Are you able to stand?" he asked worriedly.

"Maybe," she murmured hoarsely.

Clumsily she turned onto her knees, straining to push a sore leg at the ground. Halfway up, her bruised knees gave out and she tumbled over, barely caught in time by Boromir.

"Brace yourself," he said, holding her around the waist.

"Huh?"

Instantly he scooped her off the ground, his arms tightly held beneath her legs and back. She winced and clung to his neck, staring at him wryly. He did not look down, preoccupied with charily balancing her and quickly moving forward as he broke through branches and thickets.

"We have no choice. Besides, you are not very heavy."

She nudged him playfully, but resignedly relaxed, unusually calmed by his swaying movement.

.-.-.-.

**September 5th**

"Ow," Eva gasped.

A searing pain hit her as Boromir's hand accidentally touched a bruised rib. Her fingernails reactively dug into his neck, causing him to flinch.

"Easy!"

He completely took her off the horse and propped her against a thick nearby trunk with his thick cloak. Her bag was dropped beside her and she glowered at it, sighing. For the last day and half, he had not let stand or go into upright motion, he carried her everywhere.

"I can walk you know."

He lifted an eyebrow in his suspicious inquisitive manner, but acknowledged her no further. He returned to the horse, preoccupying himself with unloading their bags and supplies for camp. Listlessly she burrowed her head into the cloak, seeking refuge from his slight and the wavering leaves around her. Finally he finished and retuned to her side, taking a place next to her on the ground.

"No need to hide."

She peered up at him from beneath the folds of fabric, her eye streaming with thought. "I still cannot believe what the Dunlendings did to those Elk, and tried to…though Théodred told me those stories."

"It was not ordinary hunting, others have been along the trail too. T'was ritual and preparation, they do this for times of coming war and hard winter."

She frowned. "Does that mean Rohan is in trouble?"

"The Rohirrim is always ready. They have their warhorses, sturdiness, and fields." He paused and gazed longingly eastward. "War from the west they need not fear. If the strength against the eastern shadow shall fall, more than Rohan will be at stake.

Determination and courage simmered in his eyes as he turned to her. Understandingly she took his hand, enfolding it within her own.

"Any with you by their side shall never fall. Boromir you are a great and magnificent man, don't let worry or self deceit stand in the way of that."

"Eva, I-" he said haltingly. "It can appear so bleak at times so I hardly know what to believe. I fear not my fall in defending that which I love, only I might fail in the end." His fingers traced wonderingly across her forehead and cheek. "Forever I feel like I will lose for you and Gondor. Perhaps I am not enough to protect against darkness, though I wish to always protect both of you."

"You are only human and time is fickle in its setting of fate. Look at my being here," she said, smirking a bit. "It's hard to know what will happen. I believe as long as you live up to yourself and do what's right, then nothing wrong will have been done."

.-.-.-.

**September 10th**

The days of travel had slurred into empty hours of light, through an endeavor that increasingly turned daunting. Repeatedly they nodded off in the saddle, the night hours of rest passing quicker than either person desired. Boromir was constantly silent and aloof, and too often, Eva wearied of his protective preoccupation with her.

During the long hours of one reciprocal day, they hardly paused and rarely spoke as they passed through the wide solitude of the open western lands. Their off trail traverse faded deep into the grey green brush and high grasses, until few could have marked them from the surroundings.

Sensitivity and aches remained for many long hours of the days, slowing their formerly hasty travel. Often Boromir walked ahead while she rode, navigating on an invisible path. Mid-afternoon they stopped along a thatch of scraggly thicket, ready for rest. With difficulty, he helped her off the horse, wearied anxiety writ in his face and touch. Eva enthusiastically took a place on the flat but welcoming ground, taking time to settle herself down.

Her companion stalked dutifully off into the perimeter, searching like a hunting dog for any possible enemies. Eva lay upon her cloak for a half hour or so, drinking in the peace only existent in nature. Boromir returned a few minutes later, and soundlessly moved behind a skewed trunk, unfurling the parchment map in front of him. Soon though the ground grew hard to Eva's tender body, and resignedly she sat up, ready to depart. Surprisingly, Boromir was still in the same position before, except in the map lay somewhat slackened in his hands.

Quietly she investigated, and was startled by the sight. His head lie on a backward slant against the bark, dark locks of hair drifting upon his face as he breathed. The deep noble eyes were shut in sleep, all apprehensions gone, and a more youthful handsomeness present in his appearance. Softly she called his name, but he did not wake or react. Skillfully she edged the map from his hands and stared at it, interested to know why he'd been studying it so intensely.

She took it near Hæstapa to read, curiously studying and tracing a trail of marks. It led from Edoras to a spot in the middle of nowhere, erratically moving up and down across the North South road.

"What is he up to?"

A nagging feeling nestled in the back of her mind as she replayed the bygone days and paths.

Were they lost?

Worriedly she tucked it into her belt and walked over to the horse, distractedly checking each leg for soundness. Things were spiraling into one incident after another…

.-.-.-.

Two hours after the strange discovery, Eva found herself settled beside the mare, whom she'd commanded to lie down. Slowly the golden red hues of sunset grew, and dappled through the twining branches of the nearby trees, splaying the shadows across the pages of Eva's book. Words were the only true escape that one could find in this wild place. Distractedly she read the pages, trying to absorb as much possible so she could fall into the pages.

Soon though, the effort proved trying, the paper glazing into an unreadable grey haze. She regretfully tucked it at her side and gently laid her against Hæstapa's staid withers, closing her eyes as she soothingly rubbed the graceful neck.

"Good girl," she murmured softly.

A warm benign depth emanated from the downy feathered hair, eddying the psyche of horse and human. This newfound peace helped pacify the internal restlessness that had grown within Eva with each worrying hour of travel, bruises and restlessness annoying reminders of the perils in their journey. First the horse had gotten hurt, then Eva, it would spell trouble for an important asset like Hæstapa to weaken or turn lame. The woman's breaths deepened as the light fleeted from her eyes, and half awakedness slipped over her, a blind search of rest from weariness. Even after a while of solitariness, she thought nothing of Boromir's far-off presence and the disturbing black marks.

.-.-.-.

The crisp sound of a snapping twig reverberated through the hushed lull of the clearing, an unexpected warning of approach to the reposed pair beneath a low hanging tree. The mare instinctively raised her head and pricked her ears alertly, watching the nearby foliage as it rustled to admit a tall dark figure. It purposefully moved to the young woman's side and hovered for a moment before curiously but softly stroking a hand along Eva's cheek.

Her eyes flicked open, and she lurched slightly before recognizing the familiar lordly face of her friend. Boromir's eyes glinted in the celestial glow of evening and held hers while he smiled amusedly and picked up her hand.

Somewhat suspiciously, she noted his ruffled state and the excessive debris caught on him. "Where have you been?" she mumbled knowingly.

"Nowhere exactly, scouting and such," he said easily, and sat beside her on the ground.

"I'm sure you killed many Orcs- in your dreams. The squirrels must've had a lot of fun with you for a roosting guest."

"I admit the tree was rather suspicious." He played their fingers together a moment then tried to lift away his arm, but she gripped it tightly and placed it inescapably beneath her head that still rested on Hæstapa. "Tired, are we?" he asked good-naturedly.

She nodded facetiously and pulled him closer. "Very, thanks to you."

"Come, no need to sleep against the horse," he said, disengaging her from Hæstapa.

He pulled her the few feet away and tucked her close, allowing her to rest on his shoulder as always. His hands fell around her shoulder and waist, and sunk with her into a quiet moment. His warm tender strength flowed to her clearer than words, but amidst she felt a preoccupied tenseness echoing in his chest.

She peered up at him and placed her palm on his torso. "I hear your heart."

"What does it say?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, she traced an imaginary pattern with her finger on his chest, frowning slightly. "That you're hiding something."

.-.-.-.-.-

Translations (Dunlending):

"Bi sàmhach, bides!" – Be quiet, wench!

"Cò th' agam?"- Who are you?

"Bann- baoghalta." – Foolish woman.

"Daeg, cò airson e rothais?" – Daeg, what did you find?

"Hacca. A seo, gadaiche!"-Hacca. Here, a robber!

"Coigreachoil. Bi cò èid cràdhadh caileag ris?"- Strange. What did you hurt the girl with?

"Bi sàmhach, forgoil bides."-Be quiet, strawhead wench.

"Feuch mas bhràthair. Mi cuimhnich thu th'aig mór fireannaich. Beag a forgoil" (Be careful brother. I think she is from the high folk. Not the strawheads.

"Le beachd dhomh, sin th' mórán dhiubh faisg." As far as I know, there are many of them near.

"Dh'fhaodadh, gun luaidh air seo amharas. Na damh a is cinnteach dul an bi." Perhaps, never mind these bad thoughts. Our stags must be attended to.

"Giors gu oirre." –High spirit in her.

* * *

**A/N:** Well hello, it's been a while hasn't it? The decision to post this is completely random… but really very very sorry about the wait. Not trying to make any excuses, but my grandmother did die over winter break. Therefore was very hard to concentrate on this a majority of the time. Like chapter eleven, there was a lot of horse stuff in here, hehe…Sixteen's content WAS necessary, in fact I'm going to be writing a completely different non fanfiction dealy with that plot, so ignore it if you were confused. 

Wow my vocabulary really inflated this chapter, oops? Ho hum Boromir's being a lot more protective than normal, what's that about? It's at a huge turning point next chapter, so here's a little vote and your big chance to **control the characters** and give some vital input.

This is a serious poll, and _not_ all of these (for now) are guaranteed to show up. If you feel really strongly about two answers, go ahead and pick them.

_1) If_ there was a pairing in a future chapter, who should Eva be with:

Théodred

Boromir

Seth (EW!)

Éomer

Cynifrid (Cynuise's brother)

Benjamin Hollinger (Samuel Hollinger's grandson). wahhh wooo! genetic probby alert!

(fill in the blank)

2) Who lives? (must pick something! I'm not saying the rest will die either…)

Théodred

Boromir

Seth

Eva (Just kidding)

3) What's your favorite color?

(write in)

4) How many kids are best for a character to have?

0

1

2

3

5) What's the best place to live?

Minas Tirith

Ithilien

Edoras

West Folde

(write in)

6) If Boromir was to be with someone, who would it be?

Eva

Cynuise

(write in)

7) Suggestions

Lookie there a biased poll! Also, I'm considering looking for a beta reader, if anyone has any thoughts on the topic, let me know. Thanks for sticking with me, another update is going to be here _very_ shortly.


	18. Ch 18: The Souls Touch

A/N: I was delighted with the reviews that I got for my last chapter, thank you so much. They were much appreciated and very necessary. Boromir and I love you all! I'm sorry for the delay; I've been busy with all these college things, since it's my first year. Ieven move into my dorm in one week, woo hoo!

Chapter Eighteen: The Souls Touch

_Our souls sit close and silently within,  
And their own web from their own entrails spin;  
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,  
That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch._

_-John Dryden_

**September 10th continued…**

"You saw the maps, did you not?"

She nodded facetiously, adding, "There were many disoriented marks that adjoined our journey's way."

"Those are markers and suspicious areas. I hoped their recollection would prove advantageous." his chest contracted and he shifted slightly, grey eyes focused on hers. "I have not kept you aware of our situation, though I once explained my navigating skills lacked."

"I remember that and the Rohirrim barrow you so graciously showed me," she replied sarcastically.

"Eva, you may not have known- it is the twenty ninth of Yavannië." She did not respond but continued to gaze at him inquisitively. "We crossed paths mid-summer, but in two days it will be the harvest feast, and thus the season of decline."

Her eyes lurked downward, trying to make sense of it, for she had no idea what the calendar was like in Middle-Earth. '_Season of decline,'_ his words echoed ominously in her head.

"Septem-" she muttered suddenly. Her hands clutched weakly at his surcoat, causing him to support her concernedly. "I knew it'd been some time…but I never guessed that. Although, I'm not sure I long for home as I once did."

"Everyone needs a home," he said quietly. _And someone to share it with._His cheek rested upon her dark hair, an arm around her waist while he gazed eastward beyond the unseen mountains.

.-.-.-.

**September 16th**

Days later the scrub and trees dissipated, giving way to dark tangled weeds and undergrowth. The road was clearer and better marked, but its condition worsened with every hour. Rivulets of water could be heard dribbling off in the distance and their footfalls were slowed and silenced by prolific mud. The air continued to close around them dank and thick through their navigation amongst the bramble, even when they made it to dry shelter. Noon found Eva circling restlessly around a pile of rotting moss-covered logs, a damp shiver settling in her spine.

Boromir lounged nearby, his head was bent forward upon an elbow while he stared at a random spot on the ground. In one hand, his fingers lay forgetful and limp around his traveller's bread. An unexpected "thud" and swear met his ears, forcing him to grin amusedly at Eva, who wasw sprawled on the dirt next to him. She mumbled and got to her feet, scraping large clods off her boots.

Giving him a wry glance, she said, "Even Hæstapa has trouble in all this muck."

He reached our and took her hand in his, persuasively pulling her next to him. "That would be the fault of the neighboring marsh. The Swanfleet lies close on the north edge of our road." The smirk on his face grew even more as he added, "Next time I will catch you."

"I'm not that clumsy," she protested, unserious.

"Nor are you," he said coaxingly. "Though your hands have considerable skill compared to your feet." His thumb and fingers caressed the palm and top of her hand, sending a stream of sensuousness into her veins. "Bad for traveling, useful for horses and- knitting."

Playfully she pushed his shoulder, catching him off guard and knocking him sideways. Mischievously he grabbed her legs from beneath her, sending her backwards onto the ground. Swiftly, he dropped them and placed his arms on either side of her chest, his face low near hers.

His breath was caressingly sweet on her ear as he whispered, "See now?"

A faint smile encompassed his mouth as met her eyes, an alluring depth in them she'd never perceived. They pulled her into lambent pools of grey that seemed like the reflection of storm clouds upon the surface of crystalline water.

.-.-.-.

**September 17th**

The mare tossed her head and tail, greedily tasting the grass though it was bitter. Her deep red coat shone smooth, though dirt spotted her and the daylight was dim. Meekly she nudged Eva's back with her soft nose, searching for the dried apples that unfortunately were long gone. Amicably the young woman patted the fine neck, shaking her head.

"Sorry I don't have anything for you."

Comprehendingly the mare nibbled the dark hair and sidled away, turning her attention once more to the ground. The lead fell loosely around Eva's wrist when she moved with the horse and came to face Boromir. He ran a hand along the saddle then grasped her free hand, knowingly looking at her. A distant and solemn gleam was in her eyes, though she tried to hide it.

"You miss your pets," he said, squeezing her shoulder. She nodded. "And your home."

A small hollow pang struck in her chest. "For the most part."

"Our paths may diverge some day, and once more solitude claim you. Thus I wish for you to take Hæstapa with you, wherever the future leads."

Her head tilted upward and her hand fastened to her hip. "I _can't _do that. She belongs to you."

He raised an eyebrow conspiratorially at her. "T'is impossible. I lost my horse in Aldburg."

"That was my fault!" she said abruptly.

"No it wasn't. Nénar was quite a lively fellow. You cannot change my mind," he said, with an air of finality. "I want you to retain some familiarity and joy in your journey. If nothing else, take her on my behalf and prince Théodred's."

Thick emotion constricted her throat against words, causing her to kiss his cheek in thanks. She lingered neck to his face a moment, absorbing the kind warmth he directed upon her, then turned away. Heavy salty tears threatened to escape, weighing heavily with gratitude and relief that she'd been rescued by such a wonderful person. Mare and woman suddenly looked at each other, and stood an instant in eternity, sharing and holding a newfound bond.

.-.-.-.

**September 18th**

Gentle drops dampened the dark waving dream across her vision, rudely awakening her from a perfect night of seclusion. Her hand smacked the edge of the cloak as she struggled to sit up, accidentally rousing Boromir beside her too. An eyelid lifted, taking in Eva and the poorly illuminated surroundings. Restlessly he rolled onto his side, tugging vehemently at the back of her dress.

"Sun isn't up, return to bed," he mumbled.

Several more drops landed upon her cheek, and she reactively looked up at the sky. To her surprise, it was overcast and thick with dark clouds, the beginnings of a storm ready to pour down on them.

"Boromir," she said urgently, shaking him.

Irritated, he faced her and immediately felt water touch his forehead.

"Rain!" he exclaimed.

Clumsily he got to his feet, pulling her into a stance with him.

"I guess you're awake now," she said sarcastically, freeing her arm from his.

"We must move," he said.

Hurriedly he bent over and began to roll up their "bed."

"No kidding, I don't want to-"

A hand clutched her wrist, angling her downward toward him. He spoke calmly, but urgency lined his features and crinkled his brow. "Eva, we are less than a day from the Greyflood. At deeper levels, it is more dangerous than the Isen. We cannot afford to sit out the tide, our supplies cannot sustain delays."

Her eyes narrowed concernedly and she pressed him to explain his remark, but he ignored it. He only nudged a rolled cloak into her arms.

.-.-.-.

Torrents of rain fell for several hours, pooling deep in the thick mud, and saturating their clothing through to the skin. The dim light scarcely illuminated the thin foliage they passed nearby, even as the deluge subsided. Their boots squished softly into the earth, squelching audibly with every step. Hæstapa obediently followed Eva with their belongings, high-spirited but tired, though they had lessened the burden on her by walking, loosening the girth and giving her a lenient lead.

Though mucky and choked with debris, their path seemed to have once been a road, the remains of hewn rocks and long dead trees littering the undergrowth. Leaves heavy and sopping entangled above their heads, blotting out patches of the sky and scattering water when it fell.

Another half hour had passed when Boromir stopped in his tracks, straining his head forward to listen for something. His eyes brightened and a weight lifted from his face, as he whirled towards her.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear wha-" before she could finish, he nearly yanked her off the ground. He grasped her wrist firmly, marching past several saplings ahead on the path. "Have you lost your-- holy lord."

The brush broke suddenly to a low valley swamped by vast stretches of empty land beneath the bleak dark sky. A thunderous grey river flowed into its midst, its powerful cry echoing against the remnants of an abandoned Dúnedain city. Tumbled white and grey stones were scattered along the shores of either side, some half buried, others encircling the ruins of ancient walls, once proud towers, and dozens of buildings that once teemed with human life. Only a crumbling ring of stone stood on their side of the river, covered in growing plants and erosion from years of flooding. He halted at the base of it, letting her catch some air and take everything in.

"This is Tharbad," he said, a tinge of pride in his voice. "Built by Númenoreans ere a block was laid in Gondor."

The cityscape intermingled with the sky above, radiating its faded noble exterior and turbulent past. She gazed, regretful and somewhat saddened by the scene. "It must've been beautiful."

"Like the once numerous works of our people," he replied, twitching his mouth solemnly.

Affectionately he wiped drops of rain from beside her nose, and lifted her fallen hood over her head. "Finally destroyed by the power of water. Do not let it take you either."

They walked back and forth along the river's edge, evaluating the perilous turn their journey was about to take. Forceful waves pushed against the broken tall arches, cracked pillars and posts of a former bridge and shipping quays. Boromir stared at the rain-splattered water, searching for something and giving her a grim glance.

"The ford is already flooded heavily. Have you swum a horse?"

Boldly she nodded.

It took them a good amount of time to struggle with their belongings, moving and adjusting every bag for increased safety in the crossing. The rain tumbled down continuously, but they no longer cared, since they were already drenched. Most of Eva's things ended up in her carrying satchel, but most of Boromir's were on Hæstapa, tied securely to the saddle. He stood beside the horse in full mail and armory while she tightened one last bag, then surprised Eva by grabbing her by the hips.

His chin hovered a second next to her cheek, his breath balmy near her ear and sending shivers down her spine. Lightly he hoisted her onto the mare, grinning at her indignation of any assistance onto a horse. Retorting, she bent over to push him away, but he evaded her grip and clambered into the saddle. Hæstapa was tense but collected beneath their knees, edging into the river with the utmost caution. Shortly she was immersed up to her belly, and her steps became stiff and shuffled. The water swirled angrily against the mare, getting stronger with every inch to her withers.

Fear stabbed Eva with an internal panic, rattling her voice terribly. "It's okay girl, keep going."

At last, her head barely peeked above the waves and the humans were sunk to their shoulders. Hæstapa quaked and jolted with effort to keep moving, her hooves sliding on the slippery rocks and the depth forcing her away from the bottom. Her legs churned like a propeller while she sought new footing, loosening the already tenuous hold her passengers had on her back. The rain beat upon their heads and caught in the furious Greyflood, water crashing on all sides and often above them. Suddenly, a giant surge smashed overhead, knocking the trio askew and underwater. The hurrying madness threw them into a partially submerged boulder, making it slam into the horse, rip at the saddle, and hurl Boromir in the opposite direction. A searing pain collided with Eva's thigh, melding her yell with the half-choked scream of her mount.

The mare struggled against the stone and river bottom for a hold, but immediately was dragged backward by the plunging tide. Eva felt a hand tugging her belt the other way, and she instinctively kicked free of the stirrups. In her fight for air, the hand helped her afloat, but desperation overcame her. She _had_ to reach those reins! Hæstapa's head bobbed in the water, her eyes and voice alive with fear as she swam, but finally she was consumed by water. Her red hide and finely curved head disappeared beneath the waves and the forlorn cry of her mistress.

"Hæstapa!"

Boromir's powerful body guided her through the waves, his strength and courage feeding to her with every touch and glance. Soon, their feet hit against sand and they emerged from the river. Boromir provided a supportive arm, stopping her from complete collapse. Eva's knees suddenly gave out, and she sunk with him to the ground, clinging weakly to him and burying her face in his surcoat. Tears of pain, loss and vulnerability unwillingly seeped from her eyes while he held her against him, shielding her against the rain with his drenched cloak.

He stroked her cheek with his raw finger, comforting her silently. After a moment, he moved his hand under her chin, raising her face, and meeting her eyes. His nose hovered incredibly close to hers, raising an intensity that stirred her spirit. For a second he paused, then quickly turned away, nearly unable to resist the temptation. A crack of thunder broke the spell and he dismissed the moment. Resolvedly he took both her hands and brought her awkwardly into a stance, his eyes studying their surroundings.

"We must seek shelter now."

Somehow, she willed her legs to keep moving along the slick ancient road, bumbling at Boromir's side in the search for a dry place. Many of the ancient walls had collapsed long ago, but a good few retained at least half their stature. Tumbled blocks heaped around every corner and building, half pillars and vaulted arches stood high above the ruin. On each street were once great houses or courts where many had dwelt, yet now were still. No footstep or voice rang in their halls, nor did any face peek from vacant windows. The outsides were littered in debris, and above empty doorways were carved many fair letters of worn strange shapes: the names Boromir told her, of families or people that once lived there.

He hurried her to a particularly deep gate composed of battered notched bricks. The architecture was very familiar to him, reminding him painfully of home. She half tripped over large rubble as he yanked her into an opening in the arch wall, and finally stopped. They were in a long stairwell, protected at the other end by a crumbling roof. It was damp but _dry._ Droplets plopped quietly from their clothes until both eagerly shook themselves free of the rain and settling onto the wide stairs.

After garnering a look from her, he nodded. "This will do."

He twisted towards the back of his cloak to unlatch his shield and cloak, feeling unexpectedly burdened with his things. Eva mussed with her weighted droopy dress and unravelled her hair from its string. The fabric clung uncomfortably onto her skin, plus she did not need tangles on the road. Annoyed, she hitched the skirt past her knees and bent awkwardly to undo her boots. She was too preoccupied to notice the admiring glances Boromir gave her. They removed most of their outer layers and laid them out to dry along with everything else. Her companion anxiously sifted with her through the bags and belongings, and found they were missing the water skins, Eva's sword and blankets, half the soap, Boromir's change of clothes and his rations.

"I- everything else was on the saddle," she said breathlessly.

Pale but calm, he leaned against her, putting her head beneath his chin.

.-.-.-.

Eva passed the hours slowly beneath the gate, watching the monotonous rain from her stone perch. She tugged her shift restlessly; she was much more comfortable in this than her heavy wet clothes. Her companion sat hunched over on the bottom stairs, his hands toying with the Gondorian horn while he gazed in her direction.

She leaned back on her elbows and put out a barefoot to catch raindrops, stretching like a graceful cat. He drew himself from her strong lean legs and the gentle curve of her waist, scolding himself for such thoughts. Her hair fell around her shoulders like a dark waterfall, her lips curving into a smile as she met him with sea blue eyes.

"Valar," he whispered to himself in half desperation, half longing. Oh he had more important things to think about at the moment! Well maybe.

"Hmm?" she asked. "You say something?"

"I uh-" Without thinking, he wandered to her side and tried to stand erect. "Need to find us fresh food."

She placed her hand in his and tugged him down to the stone with her. "Are you insane? It's still raining."

He picked up her other one and rubbed both of them gently, bending forward with a strange grin on his face. "Perhaps," he said gently. "But I do not wish to starve you by taking what's yours. I care for you-r wellbeing a great deal, Eva."

Her heart halted and eyes softened as she lifted a hand to his face. She snuggled in close and ran her fingers along his cheek, heat running down her spine.

"Me too," she whispered. "We'll get through this together."

.-.-.-.

The storm raged long into the night, casting an impenetrable opaqueness on the ebony scape. The dense air thickened in their throats during their sleep, weighing heavily on their dreams. Boromir tossed with anxious fervor, haunted by a fearful doubt that stirred from ghastly shrieking shadows in his nightmares. He awoke suddenly with a shudder, sweat trickling down his damp brow, his breath short.

Memory and feeling slowly stabilized his roving mind, the air chill on his bare torso and a familiar soothing softness beneath his arm. The harrowed screams reverberated in his soul, causing him to instinctively take up his unseen sword and wrap closer into Eva's warmth. She hardly stirred from his disturbances, her mind ensnared by the dark's enchantments and distant imagined realms. He searched the blank night in vain, then closed his eyes with a shiver.

.-.-.-.

**September 19th**

Eva tranced through emerald stained fields (like those in the Mark), the wind blowing heartily in her hair and long blue dress. A similarly clad woman strode at her side, her face veiled by a crown of long golden hair. The stranger led her barefooted through the tall grass to a thatch of forest. The leaves rustled wordlessly in song above them, the sun glazing heat upon their backs. The stranger turned to her solemnly, blonde strands of hair waving across her oval eyes and round tipped nose. She motioned towards the gnarled trunks, indicating a tall sturdy figure beyond the branches.

Wonderer and shyness fluttered in her chest, for his stormy eyes watched them, enraptured. A hint of gold flashed in the leaves as he inexplicably spun away, disappearing. The woman urged her after him, then dissipated into nothingness. Eva dashed past the trees and nearly fell when an arm playfully caught her around the waist. A familiar touch caressed her face and throat, letting her knowingly meet the captivating orbs. The leafy shadows contrasted his shoulder shorn hair, and his features were somewhat changed, but she knew it was _him_. He hovered hesitantly near her cheek, whispering sweetness into her ear, his breath tingling her skin. Their eyes met once more, before she bent her head and took his mouth, melting into him…

A rushing light broke into her eyes, the tender embrace vanishing in a wave of consciousness. She felt sinewy skin pressed against her body and a calloused hand brushing the hair from her face. The dark curtain shifted aside, replaced by a handsome Gondorian face.

"Good morning, my dreaming lady," he murmured, trailing his fingers across her shoulder and back.

Shivers coursed through her belly, her cheeks becoming flushed as she raised her head level with his. The current position indicated that she'd spent the night atop him in the stairwell. Her hand trailed restlessly across his chest, but bumped abruptly against his sheathed sword. Mischievously he brought her palm to his lips, sighing a bit.

She studied him curiously, about to say something, but instead touched his jaw and rolled off him. Boromir sat up too, breaking the connection they'd just had. The dim dawn light grazed his features, showing deep circles beneath his eyes.

"You didn't sleep too well," she said, worried. He slouched against the wall with a nod, tired but alert. "I'm sure my crushing you the entire night contributed to that," she commented, shamefaced.

"Nonsense," he said resolutely. "My ill-ease may have progressed into a lurid hell if I had you not astride me." Immediately he changed the subject, not mentioning what had moved him so. "We need firewood and to scout our surroundings. I doubt Tharbad remains like the days of her victorious glory."

They redressed with only the lightest clothes, since those had managed to dry the quickest. Boromir grimaced at her empty scabbard on the ground and played with the pommel of his sword meditatively.

"I wish not to leave you alone or wander alone so unarmed. Even at my side it is befitting that you should possess some weapon or defense."

Slightly annoyed, she gazed at him until reluctantly retrieving an object beneath her bag. Shakily she placed the small weapon in his hands, disgusted and reassured by it at the same time. He picked over the Dunlending dagger carefully, testing its serration and durability. Eva already knew it was worthy; recalling the tense ready sharpness balanced in the foul hand, ready to slice her throat.

"It will do."

Quietly she followed him beyond their resting placed, her boots never two steps from his. A ghostly thin fog hovered near the ground, stirring with the chilly air where they walked. They explored the ruins for a long while; when they reached the Greyflood, the haze had dispelled, leaving behind a sunless sky. The river ran stealthily at their feet, its depths murky and grey. Boromir regarded it somberly, wishing it was a gentle sparkling turquoise like the summer ocean at the Belfalas. Quickly, he set about cleaning himself up, removing the clods of mud that encrusted his body and garments. He soon noticed Eva's reluctance towards the water, her legs submerged only to the shins.

Slowly she paced back and forth, not looking at him. The water was too unreal for her. Like a thundering hurricane, it had sought to swallow her, end it. Recent events stirred up those old unanswerable questions from her earliest days here. This was another world within its own right. How could she be here? Why did such things happen to her? Why was it possible?

Tryingly he returned to the bank, reassuringly taking her arm to lead her farther out. This reluctance of hers made him feel extremely guilty and empathetic. They'd been through so much! He stopped when they were mid-thigh, feeling her arm begin to quake. He embraced her securely, his hands clasped in the small of her back.

"I apologize for your experiences. I never wanted it to happen."

"I know. It wasn't your fault."

Something like relief washed over his face and he hugged her awkwardly, unintentionally clanging against her bad leg. Boromir noticed her reaction and immediately bent over to look. Failingly she tried to jerk her bruise out of sight, but he saw it. Gently he supported her and cupped her thigh while he lifted it, kneading the muscle when she flinched in pain. A large black and blue mark colored the skin halfway up her thigh, a cut above it traveling up to her hemline in a long jag.

After putting his soaked handkerchief on it, he held her very close. His heartbeat echoed fervently against her ear and the steamy heat of his wet body melded into hers. Theardor of his presence swallowed her entirely, and she lifted her head to gaze at him, eyes shimmering with devotion and heavy emotion. Reading her eyes perfectly, Boromir tilted enrapturedly towards her, his hands sliding deliciously over her thigh and back. A covetous shiver passed between them as he eclipsed her face with his broad hands, her name in his breath.

He leaned in to meet her lips, brushing against them with such affection that she opened her mouth even more to his, deepening the kiss as they relished and explored each other. Something slid into place inside Boromir as he let his need for her fill him. It was just the two of them here and now. It was too good for it to ever end.

After long sumptuous moments, she absorbed his tepid pale skin and broad hands caressing her face, then met his eyes once more, but with a new impulsive chill. A black, cold, loneliness flashed across her lids, spearing a numb reality into her belly.

The world came crashing down.

"No," she gasped, quickly breaking the embrace. Her heart clenched tersely, freezing her insides. They couldn't do this, it wasn't right; it wasn't meant to be like _this._ She- didn't exist here… "I- ca-" Her words hooked in her throat and pushed against her insides, swelling tears to the surface.

He clutched her apprehensively, but she shirked from his grip, nearly shoving him away. She stumbled from the bank like a frightened deer, her feet pounding into the mud fast as they could.

.-.-.-.

Boromir pursued her but barely kept up, her airy strides faster than his powerful footfalls. Around the corner of a shop, he finally grabbed onto her, taking a hold of both her wrists and turning her towards him. Wisps of hair clung to her tearstained cheeks, her head hung ashamedly away from him.

This time she wouldn't retreat. He wouldn't let her.

Wells of conflicted emotion continued to consume her, riveting into every tear and sob while she quivered in his arms. When he had kissed her, a sudden newfound awakeness had seared through her body, into her blood… into the unlocked places of her soul. It wasn't fair.

He curled her to his chest, rocking her slightly back and forth while he stroked her head. Caringly he dried each tear with his sleeve, soothing her with his hands and words.

.-.-.-.

**September 21st**

Eva remained somber and silent the next few days, caught in an oblivious façade that worried him. However when their eyes met, hers were clear and thoughtful, no hint of sorrow lingering there. She barely paid attention to anything but her thoughts, and spent most of her time sitting alone. He didn't like it. Longing to touch her again and worry about her safety nagged at him, but it was the only thing to do until she began speaking to him.

Late in the afternoon she finally came to him, standing before him with an observant eager gleam in her eyes, and a mild smile. The unquiet spirit once constantly in her face, had disappeared. It was replaced by a look of serenity, like the calm after a storm. It was the old Eva, but somehow newer and shining brighter than before. For long hours he'd watched her studying her reflection in the water, staring at it inquisitively and wide-eyed, like she wanted answers from it.

"Greetings," he said, and uncertainly reached to take her hand. She let him pull her to the ground beside him, their eyes locked unsurely.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," she said quietly, her voice cracking a bit from disuse.

"I hadn't noticed," he said with a small grin. His entrancing grey eyes were filled with her, shining through his unkempt self. Immediately she realized that his beard was longer and clothes completely crinkled; he'd been too busy worrying over her and not himself.

"I'm sorry about the other day," she said, stoking his hair suddenly. "I did not mean to put you through that. It's just- I've never felt like this before. Being here- I didn't know what to do."

He sat perfectly still, his entire attention frozen on her.

"I've decided to take it. Right here, right now. I want it, I want you."

"Me too," he whispered.

Unexpectedly she leaned in and kissed him, her heart leaping hundreds of hurdles a minute. Softly he returned it, withholding himself to keep her comfortable, but she pressed in closer, connecting herself to him. Enthused, he kissed her harder but more tenderly, lacing their spirits together with each heart moving touch. They remained there for quite a while, alive and vibrant in each others arms beneath the fading sun.

----------

A/N: AHEM. –clears throat- I guess that answers part of the poll :) Well at least for now…? -odd laugh-

My new laptop (nicknamed) Valerius, has enabled me to write much more often, with more privacy. This chapter might've taken longer if I hadn't got it, or all 4 wisdom teeth pulled last week (tons of free time because of it). Ow. I plan on finishing chapter nineteen ASAP and putting a jump start into "The Disturbing Adventures of Rumil and Kaye." No more of these ridiculous waits!

-Any questions on the story so far? Leave a review and feel free to e-mail me too. Thanks!-


	19. Ch 19: Hope

**A/N: **I have a feeling that Màda is mostly responsible for making me finish this chapter. Chinchillas are incredible jumpers, as evidenced by her bouncing all over me and her cage. These antics have brought an end to my writing aversion, and brain block. I could barely edit the ending, since I was so excited to finish. Sorry it's a bit short. The next chapter will be so much longer and more complicated.

Chapter Nineteen: Hope

_"Beacons of Hope ye appear!  
Languor is not in your heart,  
Weakness is not in your word,  
Weariness not on your brow."_

_-Matthew Arnold_

_"Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes;_

_and adversity is not without comforts and hopes."_

_- Francis Bacon_

**October 4th**

The sun simmered into thin shadows at their feet, the breeze drifting frosty across any unprotected skin. Eva brought her cloak edges closer and shivered, her teeth chattering. For days on end the weather had remained like this, following them on the march from Tharbad. The surrounding forest offered no protection, seeming anxious to make their journey miserable. Noticing her disquiet, Boromir took her hand and halted.

"You're cold as ice."

She nodded and allowed him to rub it, returning a little warmth to her skin.

"Much better," she whispered.

He smirked and placed a knotted rope and stick in her palm, so he could continue his instruction. After many steps, he positioned her hands and corrected mistakes. "Finish it by placing it like this. The animal gets caught here. Good. Yes. That shall do. We may carry these along and keep trapping."

"I wish we didn't have to do this."

He crouched closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, understanding in his voice. "I know, but we'll starve otherwise. The food is gone."

"If only-" she croaked. That image of crashing waves and inhuman screams kept haunting her.

Sensing her thoughts, he kissed her cheek and faced her. "Even with the supplies, they'd have lasted two more weeks. We will not find Imladris by then."

Late that night, Boromir returned to camp, bearing a discreetly wrapped bundle of cloth, covered with stray hairs. He carefully placed it to cook, then sat beside Eva. He stole some of the berries they had collected earlier, and chewed thoughtfully.

"I got him from your trap."

A pang of guilt stabbed her chest, but was instantly quelled by the empty gurgling of her stomach.

"It won't be much for two," she mused, looking at him knowingly.

"No, but we must stake our survival."

-.-.-

**October 7th**

The land climbed upward through the day, morphing from muddy slopes into craggy hills. The uneasy churning from the morning's fish quickly turned to pained emptiness. When the heavens waned deep blue, and stars peeked out from veils of cloud, the sonorous passing of the river changed. A clamor rose into the sky, heralding a nearby torrent of water.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

He nodded and hurried his pace, causing her to groan. _Oh well…_ They climbed to the top of a knoll, to find a fork in the Greyflood. The right branch was cupped by walls of rock that squeezed it together into a falling mass of foam and spray. It met a calm steady stream below, merging into a swirling pool amidst the mighty grey river.

"Loudwater and Hoarwell," he said enthusiastically.

"Where do we go from here?"

The overhanging cliffs were clearly impenetrable, but the calmer river led away from the mountains, where Imladris would be. A shadow fell on Boromir's face as he looked down at her.

"Around."

-.-.-

Within an hour they were unpacked in camp, beside a growing fire. Eva lazily fed the flames with brush, while Boromir brought out the last of the day's rations. She stared at the empty shadows beyond the flickering light, a hollow lonely void which they'd been stumbling through. How terrible it would be to journey such a place alone. Reactively she huddled against Boromir's shoulder.

"I hope we're going the right way," she said with a sigh.

"If not," he said hesitantly, meeting her eyes. "Would you continue to trust me?"

Her face softened. "Of course-"

She was cut short as he pressed his mouth against hers, eagerly embracing her. The growing hunger in his chest overwhelmed the one in his belly. The twigs and food rolled away from the crackling fire, their appetites subsiding for awhile.

-.-.-

**October 9th**

A loud yawn escaped Eva while she eyed the water warily. Tendrils of fog curled up from the frore surface, disturbed by the timid flow of the waves. It didn't matter how much he'd talked to her about it, she was hardly ready to plunge into the icy depths.

"Let's go," Boromir urged.

Her toes clenched against the dewy grass and she took his proffered hand nervously. At the first step, a stinging shock hit her foot, making her stumble and pause. Her companion yanked her forward, leading her fast.

"Remember, _quickly._ We need not linger here."

The bag high on her shoulder became a sagging weight, burdensome when the level reached their chests. Her limbs were stiff and numb, needing to be forced with every move. Shortly, the bottom abated, and they staggered out of the Hoarwell, gasping. Another ton of cold collided with their bodies, overwhelming them.

"Change," he instructed, handing her a towel. He'd lectured how wet clothes were asking for trouble in such weather.

Clumsily she unrolled her wool dress, unused and folded up since its purchase in Rohan. Her limbs were too frozen and shaky to move toward the protective trees, so she turned away from her companion and fumbled for her laces. Her fingers were awkward and barely bent against the sodden knots, increasing her anxiety. Immediately she felt a broad hand on her forearm, and hovering warmth.

"Let me."

His fingertips brushed teasingly across her exposed skin as he expertly unwound the complicated twists. A delicate tingle rippled down her back whenever he touched her.

"One might think you've done this before," she said, half-serious.

"Not for so pretty a lass," he growled in her ear.

Easily he undid the underlaces too, and paused when he was done. The garments became loose while she stood in front of him, causing something to flicker in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he pulled the towel around her and walked away to provide privacy.

The dark red fabric of her dress shifted against her skin when it was finally tied, indicating a fair loss of her body weight. It was a bit itchy, but warm and decent, a heavier version of her other dress. Shivering, she grabbed a blanket, and nearly ambushed Boromir when he returned.

"Cold?" he asked.

Eagerly she tugged him to the ground and enshrined him with the second blanket. He lay down with her and brought her into his arms, snug beneath the covers.

Over several days, they followed the stream then turned northeast to find the Loudwater. The Hoarwell passed away into the hills while the land grew higher towards the mountains. Often their route was diverted by a high cliff or wall, and they wandered off again. High reaching trees lingered them in the shadows, always blotting out the sky. Fortunately many fresh springs sprouted along their path, for there was no sign of water or the river.

**October 13th **

A pale pink light glistened in the crystalline dew and etched thin shadows across the forest grass as the sun nudged into the sky. Its beams struck the faces of the pair sleeping beneath a thick blanket and woke the Man. He remained next to Eva for a long moment then stretched contentedly, murmuring good morning until her eyes opened. His hands brushed her arm while he kissed her back slowly, making her exhale delightedly. Abruptly her stomach growled loudly, gurgling against her side.

"I'm hungry," she said longingly.

"I embrace you, and all you think of is food," he teased, his fingers tracing across her belly.

She sat up against him, her dress and curtain of dark hair falling around her shoulders as she fumbled for the laces he'd loosened last night. She gave him a wry look, but he smiled at her mischievously.

"You look quite becoming," he said, kissing her neck.

"According to you."

Gently she traced the stubble on his cheek then shifted to catch his lips. He responded ardently, but she yanked the blanket off him and fell onto her back.

"I'm cold too," she chirped.

"Naughty wench," he said, grabbing her waist. He rolled her to his side and reclaimed the covers, cradling her against him. "I'm quite comfortable."

She giggled, but her stomach growled again. "Berries and nuts for breakfast again?" she asked wistfully.

"You know we have caught naught for three days," he said softly.

"I even miss bread."

He chuckled and put her head beneath his chin, stroking her thick hair. He stared off at the continuous lines of trees and sighed noticeably. Doubt had festered in his heart for many days; he knew they were lost.

"This is such a strange place," Eva whispered.

"Aye, we are in the center of the wild, where the laws the struggle of life is real. T'is why I dread not knowing where we head."

She turned over and looked at him, holding his hand. "I have nothing to fear with you."

"You overestimate me."

"You don't trust yourself enough."

**October 15th**

The woods darkened and fell into shadow as their path continued north, the way quickly closed by the stony hills. A sullen thinness clung to the cool air, persistent and troubling to the spirit. It remained with the overcast sky, bringing winds and heavy rain tumbling from the west. By late afternoon, the travelers were completely soaked, unable to find protection from the weather. Boromir's steps turned troubled and awkward, until he was forced to stop and call ahead to Eva.

He coughed loudly and shouted through the rain, "Eva! It's useless. We must desist."

The hooded head shook vigorously and her arm gestured forward, her form barely discernible in the dim light. Frustrated, he stamped ahead and broke through a tangle of branches, finding her beside a tree trunk. He tugged her close and gave her a pleading look.

"Please, may we rest?" he said raspily.

The determination disappeared from her eyes, replaced by concern. Her hand slowly stroked his flushed face, feeling the warmth of his forehead and the weariness in his muscles.

"You aren't well," she murmured. "I'm sorry. It's just-"

Wordlessly she pointed beyond the chaparral and steep slope, revealing the familiar flow of a river. The thunderous crashing of the rain drowned out its turbulent waves, grinding the water against the storm

"Loudwater," he said with astonishment. "My brilliant lady."

They laughed and ducked back into the trees, searching for some protection from the wind.

.-.-.-.

**October 20th**

The cold water tingled against Eva's skin, sloshing when her cupped hands touched her mouth. Her knee braced steadily against the boulder she was on, allowing her to reach further into the river and fill her palms. Boromir crouched beside her in the same pose, his throat dry and a little sore. She shook the moisture from her arms and brushed a dark lock from his face, studying him carefully.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

He shifted uncomfortably and scratched his throat. "Nigh perfect, love. Your hand is that of a healer."

A distant scene surfaced in Eva's memory, stinging her with guilt. Her poor Aunt and Uncle, she hadn't been able to help _them._

He saw the pain in her face, and guiltily hugged her. "Do not blame yourself, ever."

Suddenly an eerie burst of wind shrieked through the air, carrying away his words in a torrent of noise. A mute tremor tore through the earth, and the river level spilled onto the boulder, causing the pair to scatter onto the shore. At that moment, a roar crashed upon the surface, a wall of waves and rolling rocks rushing by in a fury. The foam burned like white flame and tumbled forward like a sonorous stampede. Mist engulfed them and charged downstream with the tumult, the river calming once more.

Dumbfounded, they stared at each other. Eva's voice cracked when she tried to speak. "Wh- what was that?"

Shock and awe gleamed in his grey eyes, but hope began to brew inside him. "I think we near the Elves."

.-.-.-.

**October 24th**

Late in the morning, a thinning in the undergrowth and fallen timber led into a clear strait across their path. Its surface was muddy, but packed down well. Enthusiastically, the travelers followed the route, realizing their luck had brought them to the East-West Road. By noon, the course was running steadily downhill and widening on either side, allowing patches of green to peek from beneath thick autumn foliage. They had plunged past tall tangles of pine trees and a strait of red stone, when they came into the open. The Loudwater flowed through a muddy shore that was hedged by a steep brown bank on the other side. It fed into a winding trail beneath lofty mountains, which climbed peak on peak into the dusky sky. The Ford of Rivendell shimmered silver amongst the shallow depths, the rocky bottom taking them effortlessly across.

Soon, the sun began to fall, fading into a blanket of pink, yellow and violet blue studded with small stars. Their footsteps slowed considerably when they settled for another long needed break.

"Boromir, do you believe we'll find the Elves tonight?"

He glanced at her, stubbornness and assurance etched in his face. "I can feel it. We are very close."

Eva collapsed on the ground and curled beneath his arm. "I'm just so tired."

A spot of guilt budded in his chest, inciting him to bend over and kiss her imploringly. Spiritedly she returned it, her hands resting around his neck. Unexpectedly he began to stiffen and parted from her, the hairs standing on the back of his neck. He motioned for her to remain quiet, and rose stealthily with his sword and shield. Immediately, several silhouettes broke from the surroundings, steel glinting in the sylvan glow. Eva screamed and clambered to her feet, but was promptly nudged with something sharp.

"Daro! Halt!"

The figures were clad in green and grey garment, and crowned with dark hair that framed delicate pointed ears. All except one were armed with long bows and arrows aimed at them.

"Folk of Imladris, I presume," Boromir said quietly, lowering his sword.

His opponent looked at him calculatingly, his glance shrewd and piercing. "Yes, you have come to the lands under Lord Elrond's protection. Name yourself, human."

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor. My companion is Evelyn, daughter of Arthur. We have come many miles and many days to seek the guidance of the lore master."

"I have heard of you, Lord Boromir," the Elf responded. He sheathed his weapon and nodded to the others. "I am Tûloen, Marchwarden of the forests." The archers stood down immediately, but remained alert. Their leader put his palm to his chest and bowed slightly, prompting a similar response from Boromir. "How may I assist you, milord?"

"Please, lead us to your refuge. Wayfaring has worn us."

"As you wish. Follow me."

The Elves moved soundlessly amongst the woods, watching the newcomers but quickly guiding them. The night appeared impenetrable, but the immortal eyes were sharper. The minutes were impossibly long, but every so often Tûloen would point out a hidden white stone, attempting to reassure them how close they were. A few times they felt ready to collapse, but the Marchwarden was kind and let them have a very long break. After a bit of bread and water, Eva dozed off in Boromir's arms, covered loving with his cloak.

Tûloen approached them cautiously, noticing how slouched the man was against the trunk.

"Both of you grow faint," he said.

Boromir nodded and stroked the woman's head gently, beginning to smirk. "I'm afraid she's nearly passed out."

"You are very fond of her," the Elf stated, perceiving his thoughts. "I must confess, we must move on, now. Despite Lord Elrond, the Wild lingers here. Only Imladris is truly safe."

A wary tension sparked in the human's face, but he stared at him in desperation. ""What would have me do?"

The Marchwarden handed him a leather flask, urging him to drink from it. "A mouthful will do. It is miruvor, the cordial of our people. When scouting takes us far, such times it is needed."

The warm drink passed his lips, flowing a new strength into his body and the drowsiness leaving him. He roused Eva and poured some into her mouth, her eyelids fluttering. Suddenly she sat up, coughing and gaping at him.

"What in the world? What did you do?"

"Thank our escort. A dose of his Elven drink rekindled us."

The Elf stood up and bowed apologetically. "Shall we continue, milady?"

The land abruptly sloped while they were walking, bringing them out of the woods and above a zig-zagg path into a deep valley. Sounds of a hurrying stream and the scents of fragrant trees wafted up to them, accented by the soft glow of the moon. Farther down, the trees morphed into beech and oak, their leaves rustling imperceptibly in the warmer and comfortable air. They traversed an open glade, meeting a bout of singing that startled the mortal pair. Members of their group joined the mournful but sweet chant; more beautiful than any they'd ever heard.

"An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo  
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë  
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;  
ar sindanóriello caita mornië  
i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië  
untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.  
Si vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!  
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.  
Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!"

"What do they sing?" she asked Boromir.

He shook his head cluelessly, but one of their companions answered, "We sing of Elbereth and our forsaken land,Valinor in the West. It is our star of hope in the growing shadows."

The archer turned his attention from her and sprang ahead, not saying another word. He reappeared later, at the brink of the river, and the ending of their road. A narrow stone bridge took them across the noisy waves to the shore, where several Elves stood waiting with bright lanterns. They entered Imladris through an elegant stone arch, finding more singing and a magnificent collection of wood and stone work before them.

The Marchwarden paused, turning to the awestruck humans. "Welcome to Rivendell."

* * *

**A/N: **Good news, I'm not dead, (Well maybe for most of you…) just incredibly stressed out. Was. I guess it's why I couldn't work too well on this chapter, plus I had a run-in with some people. Since she's never going to see this…. my roommate is a skank! Anywhoo, if you got this far, thank goodness and thank you very much. Please review, you make my day happier. If not, I hope moldy cupcakes chase you with cars in your nightmares. 

ps: The poll responses were awesome, and helped a great deal. My sincerest gratitude!

Disclaimer: Tolkien's world and characters obviously belong to him under copyright,my names and stuff belong to me, I just invaded it.The Elven song is from "The Fellowship of the Ring" I claim no ownership or legal junk over it. Etc. etc. etc.


	20. Ch 20: Open Truths

Chapter Twenty: Open Truths

"_Ask, and it shall be given you; seek; and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."_

_-Matthew 7:7-8_

"_This above all: to thine own self be true,  
And it must follow, as the night the day,  
Thou canst not then be false to any man."  
-William Shakespeare_

**October 24th**

A breath of air sighed through the elegant room, stirring the hem of Eva's dress and the ornaments upon high reaching walls. Firelight flickered on the soft colors everywhere, playing on Elven latticework and arches that opened onto the veranda. Books covered shelf upon shelf above the long chaises and richly carved tables, mostly titled in foreign letters.

"Lord Elrond will arrive in a moment." Their attending Elf bowed low and exited, leaving the humans alone.

Eva was still examining the ancient volumes, when Boromir nudged her roughly, calling their attention to the entranceway. A stately Elf walked toward them, grace and youth in his wide stride. The light revealed his wise and ageless face, writ with many winters and profound thoughts. His midnight hair was set with a silver circlet, his eyes grey and clear as a calm ocean reflecting with stars.

She murmured a quiet hello, but Boromir bowed in acknowledgement, his face intent. "Greetings, Master Elrond."

The Elf lord nodded slowly and swept his hand in the direction of the seats. "Welcome, Boromir of Gondor. To you as well, Evelyn. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

He sat in a high backed chair while the pair settled onto a velvety couch across from him. His eyes lingered on Eva's, his gaze shrewd and penetrating, but kind.

"Milady, I can guess forthwith you are not of known lands. The Marchwarden named you of the southern Dúnedain, but your accent marks contrary."

Boromir touched her hand arm discreetly, but she ignored him. Everything needed to come out, because the Elves were her last hope. "Yes sir. You might say I come from the west, far hereafter."

Without restraint, she began to tell him who she was and what had happened, down to the last detail.

.-.-.-.

"Horseless wagons, foretelling dreams- enlightened Ages," Elrond paused, continuing to absorb her words. "Such prospect I had not looked for, yet I am heedful. Has our history been uttered in your era?"

Eva dropped her head as if in pain, and rubbed her brow. "The harder I try to remember, the fainter everything gets. There are stories of Middle-Earth told in my time, of its beginning to years of the Fourth Age, but many consider them fiction."

A hand gripped her shoulder, setting her upright. Sparks ignited in those cherished grey eyes, desperation brimming at the edges. "_Fourth Age?_ Eva, you made no mention of this detail. What… why-"

The touch stirred a piercing guilt in her chest, tears springing up. _She'd done it again. _She shirked and slid to the opposite side of the couch, hiding her face. The Elf looked at her pitifully, appearing empathic and understanding.

"Boromir," Elrond interrupted. "Stay yourself. Perhaps she thought such a matter above you and her."

The man glared at him slightly. "Then what does it mean?"

"Honestly, I cannot know. Since she loses memory of these things, perhaps such is our fate not to hear them."

"How can that be? Eva has come to our world, lived and breathed here, affected it… become part of it. People have met her, love her." Gently he took her palm and kissed it, causing her to lean against him. He caressed her cheek and gazed at her penitently.

He studied the pair pensively, sensing the impenetrable link between them. "I think, Boromir, fate intends other things…reasons. Evelyn, tell me once more of your ancestress."

Thoughtful, she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and crossed her legs. "Well, Elena had a disappointing life. She was used, broken, and love hurt her. After the loss of her first husband, Samuel's embezzlement and affair, she drowned herself in Stone Creek. Wait, do you really-"

"Consider such as a cause? Indeed. There are forces at work in the world beyond comprehension. Your choices will soon come to pass, whether to find a way home or to remain here. I will aid you where I can, but there are limits to my abilities. If you wish, I can send your case to my kin.  
They may be able to do more, perchance send you home. Most certain, you were fortunate enough to cross paths with Boromir. Speaking of whom, I believe there were important matters you wished to discuss?"

The Gondorian twisted his hands, his expression grave. "It is one hundred ten days since I left Minas Tirith, to seek the unraveling of hard words. The shadow of darkness grows stronger in Mordor, but newfound hope I have in a dream that came to my brother and I. The sky grew dark and thunderous, but in the West a pale light shone, crying:

'Seek for the Sword that was broken:  
In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand,  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
And the Halfling forth shall stand.' "

A hint of surprise appeared in Elrond's countenance and he spoke back and forth with him. The strong quiet tone soothed lulled his companion into a relaxing stupor, until she was half-asleep against his shoulder. They eventually noticed, and Boromir put an arm around her, coaxing her to consciousness.

"Wake up, love."

"Would you care to retire for the evening milady?" Elrond asked amusedly. She nodded drowsily and looked at the Man regretfully. "Mereth." In response, footsteps sounded in an adjoining corridor, coming towards the room. "As I said, tomorrow all your questions shall be answered, for in the morning many gather in council. Even the meaning of dreams shall be deciphered." An Elf maiden appeared in the doorway, and hurried obediently to his side. "Mereth, escort the lady to her quarters. She is exhausted."

"Mae, herdir Elrond."

Boromir gave Eva a quick kiss and whispered goodnight to her. The elleth curtseyed and brought the woman to her feet, showing her from the room. She was too tired to care about being dragged across the veranda or the elleth's incessant chattering. They stopped inside a dimly lit room, and she was released instantly.

"Your quarters, milady," Mereth said brightly.

In her sluggish haze, she elatedly spotted the bed, and stumbled towards it, attempting to struggle from her dress. A pair of hands halted her progress, nimbly undoing the laces and helping her slip from the cumbersome garment. Sighing with relief, Eva dropped onto the downy bed, and fell asleep.

.-.-.-.

**October 25th**

A field of mauve seeped into view, until expanding into a beautifully sewn standard on the wall. A comfy pillow pressed against her cheek and silken sheets engulfed her body, exalting the long lost luxuries of a bed. She blinked away the night's oblivion and sat up beneath the covers, taking in her surroundings. High arching windows spilled golden green light into the room, shimmering off tapestries and hangings that adorned smooth pillars. Richly carven furniture stood along the walls: a wardrobe, washing stand, desk, and a shelf of bound volumes. Cushions spilled over the sides of a long chaise couch before dying embers in a fireplace, and along the opposite wall, a bathtub was exposed through a partially open door. Curious, she slid to the floor and swung it open. Immediately a female appeared from behind it, making her jump.

"Good god."

The elleth bowed diffidently and urged the woman towards the tub. "Sorry milady. I was preparing your bath."

"Oh, thanks-" Eva said, slightly embarrassed. "What's your name again?"

"Mereth, milady," she answered. Fretfully she tucked a dark wisp of hair behind a pointed ear.

"You don't need to call me that. My name is Eva."

The elleth's blue eyes opened slightly in surprise. "Very well, m- Eva, the water is ready."

.-.-.-.

"Ow." A small pain ran through the back of Eva's scalp. She flinched, causing the elleth to pat her chidingly.

"Sorry. Last one…finished."

Mereth harried her out of the chair and to the mirror on the washing stand to display her handiwork. She stared at the reflection, surprised at the difference the months had made. She was considerably thinner and appeared older, but hardier and courtly. Her hair was half pinned back with burnished pins, each studded with small white stones. The new dress she wore was velvet pale red with silver embroidery that wound in Elven knots around the edges. The neckline scooped in a wide "u" from her shoulders. Her legs felt awkward and weightless without riding boots, but the thin leather ones now on her feet were quite comfortable. She fingered her old bracelet hidden beneath the draping sleeves and turned to Mereth.

"Thank you."

She bowed and gave her a small smile. "Would you care for breakfast now?"

"Ok-" Suddenly, a single clear bell rang in the distance, distracting them. "What was that?"

"That's the warning signal for Master Elrond's council," she answered, ushering her out the door. "Your lord and the other guests are gathering to discuss matters of the wide world."

"Did Boromir say anything about it?" Eva murmured, feeling discarded.

The elleth led her through a corridor and down a flight of steps, not looking at her. "He thought it best not to disturb you."

They stepped inside the anteroom of a lofty hall, finding a row of plush chairs encircling a lengthy stone table. Several trays were set out with fruits, bread, tarts, porridges and all sorts of drink. The elleth hurried off, leaving her to eat the delectable food alone. Two helpings later, she tucked a wrapped pasty in her belt pouch and hastened to find Boromir, wondering where he could be.

She wandered through the foyer, to a colonnaded terrace, drawn by the scents of fading summer flowers and declining trees. The sonance of the river increased to an emphatic gurgle and the fringes of a garden appeared over the low wall of a porch. She neared its closed set of doors, and was bewildered to hear the murmur of many voices. She explored the encircling path, finding the wall dissipated into a bank of trees and statues. One she noticed in particular, was a stone figure of an unearthly woman dancing with a pair of birds at her side. She caught the rustle of leaves in a nearby bush and the frantic whispers of two males, scolding and shushing each other. Intrigued, she crept around the sculpture and found a pair of odd looking children huddled beneath the low-lying boughs. They had thick curly brown hair and overlarge furry feet, but closer examination revealed they were more like shrunken adults.

_What in the world? Are these the "Halflings" Boromir was looking for?_

The panoply of voices started up again, and this time she could hear them quite clearly. The Halflings were gawking at the source past the undergrowth, but entangled branches blocked her view. Impatiently she clambered onto the stone woman's pedestal and clung to her side, peeking betwixt her outstretched arm. A semicircle of Men, Elves, Halflings, and Dwarves (unless they were extraordinarily hairy Halflings) was in the middle of the porch, appearing grave and serious. Boromir was sitting on the end towards her, looking pensive but alert. Next to him was a very old man cloaked in grey robes, who seemed very familiar. That was absurd to her, she couldn't possibly know him.

Elrond stood at the forefront of the group, speaking. "You do not suffer alone, Glóin. You will learn your trouble is but part of the shadow on the western world. The Ring…this is the purpose which called you hither, though t'was not I who did so. It is so ordered that we here, and none else, must find counsel for the world's future. So you may better understand these tidings, the Tale of the Ring shall be repeated from the beginning to the present moment."

Eva stood transfixed as the Elf began to weave many words, telling of the downfall of Númenor, the founding of their realms in exile, the unravelling of Sauron's might, and the waning of the Men of Westernesse.

"Thus it's passed for many centuries of Men. Minas Tirith fights on and defies the enemy, keeping the East at bay. All is in peril, for the One has been found."

He fell silent and his chair creaked ominously as he claimed his spot. Eva leaned back against the statue and lifted her feet, attempting to shake the tingling out. Soft footfalls and a familiar voice suddenly spoke, prompting her to peek around the arm again. Boromir stood straight and tall before the others, pride in his face.

"It would do well for all to hear of what passes in my homeland of Gondor, protector of the West. Do not believe the blood of Númenor is gone nor its pride and dignity forgotten. By our vigilance, by the blood of our families: the darkness of Mordor is kept at bay. I deem few truly know of our deeds or surmise little of the truth, if we should finally fail.

We fight and hold onto the west shores, and those we shelter give us praise but little aid. In this foul time, I have traveled one hundred ten days to Elrond for counsel and the meaning of hidden words. On the eve of a summer assault, a perplexing dream came to my brother and I."

He lowered his head a minute as if in doubt, but stiffened his arms and lifted his chin high. Even from her post, Eva intuitively saw the lines on his brow and the stolid stillness in his pupils. She knew he was worried. Hopeful, she recited the lines to herself with him, remembering them perfectly.

_How many times have I heard this?_

His voice became stronger and more forceful as he paced in front the council. "Our father Denethor, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, is wise in the legends of our people, but he could tell us little. He said only, that Imladris is the Elven name of Rivendell, a distant northern dale, where Elrond Halfelven dwelt, greatest master of lore. I have long strayed seeking this house, which many heard of, but knew not its location."

A tall man rose to his feet, standing before Boromir. They were much alike in appearance; save his hair was flecked with grey and his face was worn with many years. "Here shall things be made clear to you." He cast a sword upon the stand before Elrond, the blade in two halves. "This is the Sword that was Broken!" he said.

Boromir stared at him. "Who are you? What have you got to do with Gondor?"

"I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chief of the dwindling Dúnedain in the North." he answered. "I am descended through many sons from Isildur Elendil's son."

The elderly man nudged the Halfling next to him and said solemnly, "Bring forth the Ring Frodo, then he will understand the riddle."

The young Hobbit sidled into the centre of the gathering, appearing very anxious. He dipped into a pocket and held out a shaky hand. In his palm lay a gold ring that gleamed in the sunlight.

"Mark the Bane of Isildur!"

An odd expression emerged on Boromir's face as he gazed at it, eyes glinting. "The Halfling and- what of the sword? Has the doom of my people come at last?"

"The words did not speak ofthe South-Kingdom," explained Aragorn. "Behold! Fate and great deeds are awakening. The Sword that was Broken is Elendil's sword that snapped beneath him and cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. It is said that it should be reforged when the Ring is found. Since you are answered, what do you ask? Do you wish for the House of Elendil to return?"

A smile played on Boromir's lips. "I am here not to beg for favours, only to seek the meaning of a riddle." He looked at Aragorn hesitantly. "We are hard-pressed- and the Sword of Elendil would be beyond our hope…if such a thing could return from legend."

_So judgemental._

"I forgive your uncertainty; little do I resemble the Kings of old. I am only the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. But, the world is changing and a new hour sprung. Isildur's Bane is found and war is at our threshold. I will accompany you to Minas Tirith."

"You believe Isildur's Bane is found_?"_ cried an Elf. "We may believe the Halfling's burden is indeed _the_ Ring, but what of proof? And I would ask this also. What of Saruman? He is the most learned in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel-if he knows what we have heard?"

"Galdor." The old man next to Boromir arose. "Some would think the dwarves' tidings and the Hobbits' tales clue enough. Such part is not for Saruman to give advice upon. Long had he deceived us into believing the Ring lost forever; while he searched for himself. During the summer he revealed himself and imprisoned me for not joining him. To discover myself where veracity lay, I sought the creature Gollum, and read the scroll of Isildur in Minas Tirith.

His words brought truth, for when held in fire, this Ring reads, 'Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.' " The quiet voice sharply changed, echoing with power and harshness. A shade engulfed the sunlight and a menacing chill crawled down Eva's spine. "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them."

The Elves looked at him incredulously, and the gloom vanished, returning the autumn sun. Elrond examined him sternly. "Never has one uttered that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf."

"Let us hope none will speak it ever again," answered Gandalf. "The Black Speech may soon be heard in every corner of the West, if we continue to doubt the Ring's identity."

A dignified and youthful Elf with golden hair rose from his place, his countenance knit with distress. "Indeed, but it cannot be kept from him forever by our means," he said. "Few choices remain: to rid ourselves of it, or destroy it.'

"No, Glorfindel we may not throw it away. We must make a final end to this quandary. But…alas, the Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft we possess. Merely the waning strength of Gondor stands between him and a march on Middle-earth."

Elrond stood once more, and the group fell silent. "Sauron will expect us to flee West, thus that road must be shunned. The Ring was forged in Mount Doom, only there can it be unmade. It must be taken into Mordor and cast into the Fire from whence it came."

Boromir shifted uneasily, frowning slightly and clenching his knee. "Should we not think the Great Ring is a gift? The Men of Gondor are valiant and will never yield, but they may be subdued. Strength is needed for valour; let this be your weapon if it has such ability. Wield it and claim victory!"

"None can use the Ruling Ring. It was made by Sauron alone, it cannot have another master. Even I fear to use it," answered Elrond.

Boromir searched them doubtingly, but lowered his head. "If that is indeed the will of the Council…the Dúnedain must trust in the weapons we have and fight on. We trust the Wise to guard this precious thing. Mayhap the Sword of Elendil will stem the tide of darkness."

The Elf lord trod before the group, rubbing his chin. "The road will be very hard for they who carry this burden and neither might nor wisdom will make a difference. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Oft is the course of deeds that move the world: small hands do them because they have to, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere."

"Excuse me," the elderly Halfling piped. "What do you mean by _they_?"

"The messengers who shall be sent with the Ring, Master Bilbo."

"Precisely! Who shall they be? It seems to me that's what this Council must decide, and all that it has to. Maybe you can think of some names? Or put it off till after supper? This old hobbit grows hungry."

A pregnant pause pervaded the patio, an ominous quiet falling on the gathering. Each cast their eyes downward in deliberation, their breathing drawn and nervous. The noon-bell rang, but no one said a word. The younger Halfling slid from his chair and stood before them, his voice small but determined.

"I will take the Ring…though I do not know the way."

Everyone stared at him in wonder and disbelief, including the eavesdroppers.

"I think this task is allotted to you, Frodo. If you do not find a way, no one will." Elrond put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him inquisitively. "It is a hefty duty, none could put it on another and I shall not. If you take it freely, I respect your decision. Your place would be among the mighty of history."

A hobbit leapt from the corner where he'd been sitting on the floor, completely unnoticed. "Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere alone!"

"I agree, Samwise," said Elrond, smiling amusedly. "At the least you will accompany him. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

The two hidden hobbits began to burble and rustle in the brush, clearly angry. She studied them, querying their fury.

"Unfair!"

"Instead of kicking him out, he's reward-

Suddenly the Halflings let out muted cries, and a tall figure fled out of the bramble. Startked, she lost her balance and slipped, hitting the ground hard. An Elven face appeared above hers, concerned and confused.

"No tiriel, hiril Evelyn! What brings thee here?"

"Tûloen," she said, accepting his hand up. "I was just walking around."

Unexpectedly, two small heads popped up behind them, both glaring at the Marchwarden.

"What's the big idea?"

"We weren't up to anythin' and she certainly wasn't!"

The Elf looked disdainfully at the hobbits. "You, little masters, were watching the council uninvited."

"What about her? She was spyin' too."

Eva put both hands on her hips and said indignantly, "_I_ was trying to find my companion. What are _you _doing here, Captain?"

"My sister Mereth requested I search for you, milady. There was no trace of you for the midday meal. Might I add, she'll have my bow if you've gone hungry? 'Can't go losing or mistreating guests,' she says."

"Don't worry, I'm full from breakfast," she said reassuringly. She produced the filched pastry and fiddled with it indifferently. "Guess I won't need this anymore."

The hobbits ogled the morsel intently, disbelief stewing in their eyes. The younger one extended his arm tentatively, almost mesmerized. "You won't be eating that?"

The other kicked him carelessly and winked at her. "Miss, not hungry after a single meal? You have the smallest appetite I've ever seen, but the best one around small folk." She smiled as he shuffled his feet and looked at her innocently. "Might I ask for a bit of that?"

"Merry!" his friend exclaimed. "I saw it first."

"Did you now?" he said skeptically.

They stared irately back and forth, then tackled each other to the ground. Shocked, Eva tried to urge them apart, but they disregarded the plea. The Elf folded his arms and disdainfully ignored them. A moment later, the tall porch doors slowly swung outward, admitting council members onto the walk. Except for a few, each of them was visibly stunned to see the two hobbits ungraciously tumbling around.

"What tis this folly?"

Boromir pulled Eva away from the brawl, clearly concerned. "Are you alright?"

Tûloen turned to them, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "They were competing for your lady's affection, milord. The vixen sweet lies in her palm."

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrine Took," Bilbo scolded. "Really! You are grown hobbits."

The combatants peeked up at the impressive company, and scuttled to their feet, muttering apologies.

"We were only hungry."

"All this business of the world ending empties the stomach," piped Pippin.

His friend winced and elbowed him. "Nice going."

"It seems our meeting had four guests this morning," said Elrond. He glanced at Eva and the hobbits, a smirk lurking on his lips. "Mayhap such will make things easier to handle."

"Don't count on it! Why does Sam get to go with the Ring?"

"That's enough." Gandalf sternly yanked the troublemakers away from the group, both protesting along the length of an adjacent hall.

Shaking his head, Boromir faced Eva, but froze. "You're lovely, milady" he said, his voice hushed.

A tinge of pink crept onto her cheeks. "What difference a bath and Elves make." She fingered the edge of his Gondorian surcoat, which was stained and worn with their days of travel. Conspiratorially she leaned next to his cheek, grinning. "It's something you should have done, lazy."

He stepped back uncomfortably, kissing her hand. "I had not the time, but I shall shortly."

Puzzled by the formal gesture, she peered at him scrutinizingly. "Indeed, milord," she replied, keeping her tone detached.

He regarded her similarly, but said nothing. An awkward silence threatening, Tûloen stepped to her side and proffered his arm.

"Milady, may I escort you now?"

"Yes." She pivoted with him and tossed the pastry over her shoulder, in the three hobbits' direction. The stout brown haired fellow caught it, and she winked at him.

Sam grinned widely.

* * *

**Translations:**

-Mereth: "Mae, herdir Elrond." (Yes, Master Elrond.)

-Tûloen: "No tiriel, hiril Evelyn!" ("Be careful, lady Evelyn!")

**A/N:** My own discomfort is leading to some updates on the overall formatting and a comb over on previous chapters. I was actually banned from uploads a week because someone reported me for "Rúmil and Kaye's Romping Read-Along." I had notified everyone it was going to be taken down, but a particular person got power happy. I had planned on putting chapter twenty up on the 18th, (the anniversary) but my ban occurred the day _before._ I kind of felt stopping at the council of Elrond would shortchange the readers, but for the sake of continuum and my plot, I had to do it. Don't worry, the next chapter will be here shortly. I don't know what's with me lately, but I'm on a creative roll. (I've been working on another one of my fics too.) Thanks for reading and reviewing….! ;)

Disclaimer: The original characters, places, etc. belong to Tolkien, though ones like Tûloen, Mereth and Eva are mine.


	21. Ch 21: Awakening

**A/N:** Must. Sit. Down. My hits for this story are over 10,000! O.O

Chapter Twenty-one: Awakening

"_To love means to open ourselves to the negative as well as the positive _

_-to grief, sorrow, and disappointment as well as to joy, fulfillment, _

_and an intensity of consciousness we did not know was possible before." – Rollo May_

"_Wake up. Day calls you  
to your life: your duty.  
And to live, nothing more.  
Root it out of the glum  
night and the darkness  
that covered your body  
for which light waited  
on tiptoe in the dawn….  
That is your fate: to live  
Do nothing.  
Your work is you, nothing more."  
-Pedro Salinas_

**October 26**

"Thump."

"Thump."

Eva's fist beat on the wooden door of Boromir's room, as she hoped to finally catch him. Her mid-morning stroll had brought her here, the long walk having made her feel lonely and bored. It seemed everyone had disappeared since yesterday. She hadn't seen anyone from the Council and hardly saw any of the Elves. The door swung open, and a thin extraordinarily tall Elf stepped out.

"Who are you?" she said, thrown off guard.

"I am Glûdhad, Lord Boromir's chamber attendant." He looked her over from head to foot. "You are his companion, Lady Eva."

Ignoring the obvious, she asked, "Where is he?"

He glanced down the promenade, then at her. "I do not know. Excuse me milady." He nodded politely then shut the door in her face.

Disappointed and slightly angry, she glared at the closed door and marched across the walkway towards her room. It wasn't that far from his, she wondered why he hadn't come to see her yet. She peered inside the open entrance and saw Mereth inside, still cleaning as when she'd left. The elleth turned around and put down a rag when she saw her, a smile encompassing her face.

"Mil- There you are! Where've you been off to?"

"Food and a walk," she said dismally. "This place is empty today."

"That might continue for awhile," Mereth answered, hurrying to her side. "But I've things I can show you. Follow me." She took her hand and yanked her towards a nearby staircase.

.-.-.-.

"I hope you enjoyed the afternoon," Mereth asked. She fixed one of the woman's loose hairpins and brushed dirt from her hem, looking at her anxiously. Eva nodded uncomfortably and tightened her hold on several books she held. She was unused to the elleth's primping and tidiness.

"Yes I did." She definitely thought Rivendell was beautiful, but a feeling kept nagging her. Was she out of the way while everyone was elsewhere? "You know, I haven't seen Boromir again." _Or any of the other important guests… _While Mereth had dragged her from library to library earlier, she'd happened to glimpse Merry and Pippin running around in the kitchen, but none of the council members. "Is he meeting with everyone?"

"I suppose," she said, suddenly fiddling with the cloak brooch. "He has much business today. It must occupy him."

Eva studied her suspiciously, but sighed and leaned over the railing. A faint updraft stirred in the leaves below the porch, causing them to shimmer in the growing twilight. A strain of unearthly Elven music reached their ears, wistful and soft in the distance.

"…penna… o menel….elenath…Elbereth."

Heavy footsteps and a tide of voices resonated along a nearby doorway and disappointingly drowned out the chorus. Gandalf, Boromir, and Glorfindel were admitted onto the veranda, their panoply stopping when they reached the pair. She abandoned the books onto the railing and stood up.

"Greetings ladies," the wizard and elf echoed.

"Hello Eva," the man uttered lowly. His eyes pierced her with a longing intensity that buckled her knees and shortened her breath. "Does the evening find you well?" He took her hand cordially, rubbing it gently with his fingers.

A small warmth ran into her veins and pervaded her body. "Yes. I was listening to the beautiful singing before you interrupted."

_Two can play this game…_

The others bowed and turned for the entranceway. "Forgive our manners. We shall leave you."

Eva stepped close to Boromir and said innocently. "It's nice to see you though, _Lord_ Boromir."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek but trailed teasingly across part of his mouth. The hand around hers tightened considerably, a tense thrill running though his muscles. He coughed and broke from her, a glazed expression on his face. He stumbled towards the retreating backs of his companions, leaving the females alone. Smirking, she turned back to the railing to hear the Elvish singing again.

Mereth stifled a snigger and leaned in conspiratorially. "How you did tempt him milady!"

"_Tempted_," Eva sighed. "He's been very cold to me the last two days."

"He does not mean it," the elleth said, reassuringly patting her arm.

"What do you mean?"

"He is a lord of high society, raised with certain expectations. There are those who do not show their affections conspicuously without their intentions known. Perhaps he hath chosen to show the public courtesy you are obliged."

"We're hundreds of miles from Gondor. He has nothing to lose here, especially not something frivolous as reputation." Eva said indignantly.

Mereth looked at her solemnly. "He may fear to lose _you_ and your love."

.-.-.-.

Energetic pops and crackles emanated through the silence of the room, and the light from the fireplace danced merrily against the walls. Eva lay on her chaise, reading and indulging in the peace and luxury of the surroundings. Pillows and cushions enveloped her in a downy pocket and a beautiful mauve blanket draped across her legs, soft and warm. Suddenly she felt nimble fingers on her feet and a brush of cool air as her shoes were removed and replaced by the edge of the blanket. She dropped a thin leather book against her chest and peered over at her Elven handmaiden.

"Thank you, Mereth. I forgot you were here."

The elleth motioned to a chair behind her armrest, where a basket of cloth and threads sat. "If you do not mind, I shall remain here tonight. I wish to complete your dresses sooner. Tûloen is very distractive, and you might need me."

"That's very nice of you."

She shook her head and handed the woman a cup from a nearby table. "T'is nothing. I made tea for you. It's very helpful after a long day."

Eva carefully sipped the sweet earthy tea, finding it enjoyable and relaxing while she continued with her book. Mereth took her place nearby, quietly sewing beside the fireplace. Soon the strength began to leave her body and drowsiness weighed upon her eyelids. The book slipped from her fingers and she quickly fell asleep.

Within a grey haze she heard the sound of footsteps, a creak and the whispering of two voices. Eva rustled in her stupor and sluggishly opened her eyes, finding the dying fire and an empty stool beside it.

"Milady is sleeping, do not wake her!"

Curious, she peeked over the armrest and saw Mereth shoo someone from the room. A dark haired head disappeared through the entrance and the clomp of boots echoed down the passageway. Agitated, the elleth returned to the fireside, and started when she saw Eva was awake.

"I apologize for the disturbance. Visitors should not go waking others during the night, and I should more aptly rid such intruders."

Slowly Eva closed her eyes, feeling the tug of slumber again. "Who was that?"

The elleth patted her head and pulled the blanket higher on her shoulder. "No one of urgency. Rest, for you are weary."

She wanted to protest, but weak and tired, fell asleep once more.

**October 27**

Eva gently closed her bedroom door and traipsed across the walkway, reveling in the cool twilight air. The moon was low in the West and a bluish hue began to tint the sky, signaling the early hour. After passing several passages and a flight of stairs, she passed beneath a stone arch into a long courtyard. Here and there she heard the soft flutter of wings, hinting of the waking birds in the overhanging trees. Enraptured, she gazed up at the house and absorbed the elegant architecture. Faintly she heard a pebble scuttle across the walkway, and whirled around.

"Good morning, Lord Aragorn. You startled me."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he ambled to her side. "It is hard to be a Ranger in a house of stone, milady. What wakes thee at this hour?"

"A mindless rest. I suppose Mereth drugged my tea last night."

He broke into a full grin. "The Elves have vast knowledge of the earth and remedies. Some things are to be avoided, like eager handmaidens."

"I shall have to talk to her," she said, shaking her head. "I was reading the most wonderful book."

"An unfortunate incident indeed then. Though there are more dangerous things. How do you fare as of late?" he asked.

"I'm fine but still a little sore from everything. I've never had to endure things like this…" she trailed off into silence, watching as a blue bird flitted onto a railing.

"Such a thing was a hard journey. Many miles lie between here and the White City and the lands of your birth."

She looked at him like a deer in the crosshairs of a hunter. "What has Boromir told you?"

He lowered his head /inquisitively. "He explained during council that he had taken a woman named Evelyn Lynch of Creek Halls into his charge in Firien Wood. You were lost and alone, and he rescued you. Also, Lord Elrond took me into his confidence."

Her throat clenched in anticipation. "He did?"

Aragorn nodded assuredly. "He sought my assistance in the matters of attaining some source of hope for you. I have crossed many borders and lands, even into the far South and East, where the stars are strange. I can truly attest to him that you are of no existing place."

"Then what I am I to do? I have no home, no land," she said somberly.

"It may play to your favor to appear as one of the southern Dúnedain, perhaps even akin to them once, but I offer no knowledge of your culture. Such matters may only be resolved by the highest of the Wise. But since I am party to your secret and cause, I shall help to the utmost of my ability. I will carry your dilemma with me on errands that need be run soon."

Her limbs relaxed with reprieve. "Thank you," she choked. "It's more than I would dare ask for."

He smiled kindly. "You have a great deal of faith in me, milady. I hope not to fail that. Inevitably, a hard road remains ahead. If we found a way home for you or failed completely and you bound to Lord Boromir, you must prepare in the face of darkness." He laughed lightheartedly at the shocked expression on her face. "Unique unions are not foreign to me."

"Indeed," she murmured, overcome by a strange feeling. "Or the Lady Arwen would not wear the Ring of Barahir, heirloom of the house of Isildur."

"Aye," he said, eyeing her optimistically. "Your fate is not ultimately in our hands. Regardless, you have many choices, Eva. Follow _your_ heart as I did mine."

.-.-.-.

Shortly after leaving Aragorn's company, she found herself on the walkway near her room, gazing fixedly at a door along the end. Their talk had wadded her loneliness of the last few days into a tight ball in her chest, that was about to make her explode.

_Do it. C'mon. It's nothing. You're not desperate….Okay maybe you are, but you really should and you really want to -_

One of her feet went slightly backwards, but a split second later she scolded herself and started a forced walk towards his room. It didn't seem like she was the one knocking or glaring at the Elf who emerged from the entryway. He appeared mildly shocked and disgruntled to see her there at the break of dawn.

"Yes milady?" She moved towards the door and said nothing. Deftly the Elf slid into her way and held the knob behind him. "I'm afraid Lord Boromir cannot be disturbed. He has not slept fitfully the past nights, and needs his rest."

Though somewhat troubled by this information, she kept a composed countenance. "I'm afraid it doesn't matter." She firmly moved his hand. "You're dismissed."

His eyebrow went up a little, but he bowed and walked away.

_I'm getting the hang of this nobility thing._

Quietly she opened the door and went in, immediately stunned by the room. The furnishings were similar to hers, but eloquent in a masterful way, the darker woods draped in green and gold. A lone candle flickered on the mantle, its dim flickering casting deep shadows onto the walls. She tiptoed across the room to the long bed, where his form lay, back towards her. Whispering his name, she kneeled on the bed and touched his shoulder. Reflexively he turned over on his side, his eyes opening wide when he saw it was her. She knew he'd probably been awake before this.

"Eva," he said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," she said, grasping his hand.

He propped himself up higher and looked at her concernedly. "You shouldn't be here, in my room, in my bed. It's not appropriate."

"You've hardly spoken to me lately, yet when I come to see you, that's all you can say?"

She balked from his side, but he caught her arm and gazed at her ruefully. "I'm sorry. I haven't known how to go about this, how we appear to others."

"You spent months alone with me in the middle of nowhere. We're beyond the point of hiding. I don't give a damn anyway. The only thing that matters is you and I."

"You know I missed you," he said reassuringly. "I shouldn't have ignored you, or entangled myself with so many other things."

"Well, there are more important things than me around here, and I'll leave you alone if you need to be. It's just- I'm worried about you," she said gently. "Overexertion is not good, and Glûdhad said you haven't been sleeping well-"

"Eva," he said, interrupting. He put a hand on back of her shoulder. "I understand. And I'm fine. Sleeping on a bed once more _is _strange, but that isn't the difficulty. I find it hard- not having you with me." He smiled embarrassedly. "No matter where we were, you were warm, familiar…comforting."

Her face flushed slightly. "I've had some trouble too. In fact, I'm pretty sure Mereth has been drugging me to sleep." Boromir let out a laugh. Lightheartedly she scrunched her face at him and rolled away slightly, kicking her boots off and looking over her shoulder. "Perhaps we ought to fix our little problem."

"Agreed," he said. Suddenly he grasped her around the waist, toppling her into his arms. She playfully pushed him, but rested her head on his shoulder and gazed at him. "Although, Lady Early Bird, you've been up and about already."

"Perhaps I got up just to see you," she teased.

"I doubt that. You'd be wearing much less."

Laughing, she finally kissed him, indulging in him the way she'd wanted the past few days.

He drew back a moment, framing her face in his hands. "I hope you know nothing is more important than you. Granted there are things bigger than either of us-"

"Quit while you're ahead," she said, and kissed him again.

.-.-.-.

The forgetful vibrant dream fell from sight as Eva stirred awake, feeling caresses along the back of her neck. An abundance of light struck her eyes and a soft coolness drifted around her face, but the rest of her was warm and securely wrapped in a strong soothing embrace.

"Hello sleepy head," he murmured in her ear.

Blindly she turned her head towards his voice and briefly met his mouth. She felt his legs move against her as he shifted and slid away. Her eyes focused and found Boromir watching her from across the large white pillows.

"Hi," she said weakly.

He smiled and touched her cheek reverently, a distant look in his eyes. She caught his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, edging closer to him.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

He nodded and slowly heaved upward into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head. "Very well, milady. And you?"

She tugged at the long sleeves of her dress. "It was a little hard in this."

He grinned mischievously and wandered over to a chair where his clothes lay neatly folded. Immediately she noticed the room seemed straightened and the curtains were neatly pulled open. It seemed Boromir's Elf had been around that morning while they were sleeping.

_Oh boy._

She got off the bed and went to his side, watching him rifle through his clothes.

"You're still wearing those?" she asked, horrified.

Instantly she pulled the familiar Gondorian shirt out of his hands. It'd been laundered, but it was threadbare and bore the unmistakable wear of their journey.

"These are completely worn through!"

He grunted and reached for it, but she tucked it under an arm and threw open the wardrobe. Neat piles of different colored linens and garments were folded and hung inside.

"They gave you an entire new set of clothes. Why haven't you-"

"Yes," he said irritably. "But they have not adjusted them and they're- different."

"Well, I'll have to help you, because you're never wearing this again."

"Fine."

She chose a midnight blue tunic and heavy grey pants for him. He went into the bath room and returned shortly after, tidy but a little self-conscious. He messed around with his garments, and looked up at her.

"As I said, it's not right."

Rolling her eyes, she held out a hand and urged him near. "Here. For goodness sake…" She untucked it here and there, and pulled his belt out of the old clothes. Expertly she folded and cinched the tunic and belt into place. "See?"

Seeming mildly surprised and pleased he bowed his head. "You're becoming as picky as a wife," he said, hiding a smile. He turned towards the door, offering his hand to her. "Shall we?"

**November 1**

A breeze ruffled the fading leaves above, sending them into a rustling autumn song. A handful tumbled across the ground until they collided with Eva's boots. She sighed nonchalantly and lifted her feet onto the stone bench, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her chin rested on her knees while she watched Mereth study a statue in front of them. The elleth was chattering away about it, but she hardly listened. Her mind was elsewhere, and her heart ached miserably. Boromir had up and left Rivendell earlier, on very short notice.

"_Eva, I need to talk to you."_

The bedroom door hit the wall with a dull thunk, and she sat up in surprise, rubbing her bleary eyes. She looked up from her bed to see Boromir standing in the doorway. The infant sunlight highlighted his broad frame, and cast a golden glow in his skin. He seemed preoccupied and tired.

"Where'd you slink off to this early in the morning?" Like the nights before, he'd platonically shared her bed, but was always there when she woke up. He'd been around so much lately. Her smile disappeared as he came to the bed, sitting next to her on the duvet. He was in full military gear, even his sword sheathed at his side. "Or should I ask: where are you going?"

He lowered his head and cleared his throat, not fully meeting her gaze. "I uh- had to prepare. I'm leaving shortly, on an extended diplomacy mission."

"You're _leaving_?" she gaped.

"It's only for a fortnight, to Lindon and back," he said, with an unconvincing smile. "Many are departing to warn of the darkness and recruit allies or information."

"But why-"

"I volunteered for this. The Elves are being very kind to us. I wish to repay them."

"By getting yourself killed?" she said skeptically, dread beginning to rise in her chest. "There are undead and foul things of darkness running around, but you're going right into the middle of it? Don't you have any value in your own life?"

"Eva," he said slowly. "There are much bigger things at work here. Much needs to be done if we are to stay the shadow's strength in the West."

"I know that, but this isn't dying for glory, salvation, or honor…it's suicide."

"Don't worry yourself. It's a simple journey, others and I are going to meet Elven allies and return. That's all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then it wouldn't matter if I came with."

"No," he said sternly, eyes glinting like steel. "Ridiculous idea. You can't defend yourself- it's too dangerous."

A wave of frustration crashed over her. "I can-" she cut off, feeling like a toddler having a temper tantrum. "Simple mission, my ass." She threw the covers off and leapt onto the floor, glaring. "We agreed no more secrets. You wait till now to try and tell me you're not trying to get yourself killed? Like I'm going to believe that... I'll be damned if I'm going to let you run off and do it alone-"

"Enough," he interrupted, trying to remain calm. "We are not talking about it anymore." He exhaled roughly and reached a hand out to her. "I'll see you when I return."

She stared at him icily and stayed silent. Thick tension swallowed the space between them, and he froze a moment, before dropping his hand.

"Fine then." _He rose and stomped out of the room, the door slamming behind him..._

"Díheno nin, hiril nín," a soft voice said.

A swell of pain enveloped Eva's head and she blinked away a tear, looking at her handmaiden. "Yes Mereth?"

"I said it grows late. Do you wish to turn in?"

"A few more minutes," she said distantly. "You go on ahead."

The elleth hesitated, studying her concernedly, but bowed loyally. Eva watched her disappear into the trees, before the wall inside her burst. Her emotions spilled over her in a drowning mass, and she buried her face in her knees.

**November 2**

The short legs swung back and forth beneath the table, occasionally bumping it and rattling the platters. A flurry of hands moved expertly amongst the dishes, grasping food here and there. She watched the hobbits feast, while politely eating her own morsels. Pippin plopped a pile of pudding onto his plate and looked up at her invitingly.

"Quite delicious. You should try it."

Merry jerked his head in their direction and nodded vigorously, his mouth absolutely stuffed.

"I'm sure it is," she said lightly, scraping her spoon across her plate.

The pair simultaneously caught sight of the last biscuit, and stared at each other a moment in hesitation.

"It's the last one."

"Yes it is."

As they were about to spring from their seats, a gruff cough interrupted them.

An elf stood behind her chair, looking disgruntled and annoyed. He gazed at the hobbits critically then turned his attention to her. His thin hair was the color of dried mud and neatly drawn back into a braid. A thick scar crossed the corner of his brow, creasing when he narrowed his murky eyes.

"Lady Evelyn. I must report to you." He glanced loathingly at the hobbits and motioned towards the door. "If you might dismiss yourselves."

Merry and Pippin frowned, but Eva shook her head.

"That will not be necessary. They are of higher purport than I. Speak as you will."

"I am Dûrthôn, the Arms Master. Lord Aragorn has ordered me to instruct you in the art of defense."

Taken by surprise, she stuttered, "Aragorn? Where is he?"

The Elf crossed his arms. "Milord departed yesterday morn on undisclosed matters. He will be gone for quite some time, so I suggest you follow his proposal."

"_Can't defend myself." Hah, wait till he sees me._

"I agree."

**November 3**

Her sweaty palm slid against the thin grip and a jolt moved it farther down, the empty string thwaping against her wrist guard. The arrow spun through the air and instantly hit a stone wall. A dull clunk echoed across the yard, making Eva wince.

"Again," the elf said through clenched teeth.

She glanced at him and withstood the temptation to hit him. He was incredibly annoying. He moved her hands on the bow and turned her head.

"Focus."

Nervousness shook her limbs as she positioned her arms, hooked the arrow and loosed it. It landed far left of the target.

"Damn it," she muttered.

Dûrthôn narrowed his eyes and grunted. "I'm finished. _You_ keep practicing." He stomped off towards the gate, clearly frustrated.

Sighing, she lowered her bow and rested her forehead against it. Why had she agreed to this? This was supposed to be fun, or less of a pain in the butt. Dûrthôn did not like her and was aggravated like usual.

"Do not be so troubled milady," a soft voice called to her.

Wonderingly she looked around and found another Elf in front of her. His tall lean frame bowed to her courteously, his braided brown hair falling to his shoulders. He rose and met her eyes. "Lieutenant Arphain at your service, milady. Your instructor Dûrthôn is a very fine marksman, but he has a quick temper and afflicted heart. He does not mean to be so harsh."

"Well it certainly isn't helping."

The elf nodded and motioned to the bow. "May I show you?" She studied him warily but raised the bow and let him near. "First, your stance," he said. Properly he angled her body and widened her legs. "Second, hold steady." He pressed her back against his chest, putting her arms beneath his. "Aim." He released his hand from the bow and put it across her hips. "Free it."

The fletch sprung from her fingers, the arrow thudding into the target's outer edge.

"I hit it!" she said excitedly. "Thank you."

Arphain beamed and asked, "Do you wish to practice more?"

She grinned eagerly. "Of course." Tenderly she held her throbbing bicep. "But later. I'm pretty sore."

He glanced at the darkening sky and bowed. "Indeed it grows late. Until another time."

She followed him back through the gateway and went towards her room, each footstep heavy.

**November 7th**

"Ce roch?"

Eva stifled a laugh and answered, "Law. Im adanath."

The elleth tilted her head a bit and pointed to the book in between them. "That is acceptable, but more specifically, you are-"

"Oh," she said. "Im adaneth."

"Maer," Mereth replied. "Good. Peditham rim edhellen; ab îdh."

She closed the book and retrieved a tray atop a nearby table, placing it beside them on the floor. Quickly, Eva grasped the ware and food, dividing it into two before her handmaiden could.

"I appreciate you teaching me Elvish," Eva said distractedly. "It's a beautiful language."

"Glassen. I'm glad you had time amongst your many pursuits," she said, smiling.

"Well they keep me occupied, and help not think about-" Eva bit into a sweet smelling fruit and mumbled. "You know."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement, and picked up a container of tea, offering it to her mistress. She received a suspicious look in return.

"What's in it?

"Dôl talaf, a calming herb."

"Calm-? Yavanna save thee or curse thee, I know not which." Eva gave her a wary expression and drained the cup.

Mereth handed her another helping of food, a smug triumph hidden in her face. "Hannon hiril nín. Have a bit more of this, and we'll start again."

**November 13th **

Loud clacks and thuds rattled the air around Arphain and Eva, following the scuttling of their feet and twirling bodies. Their sparring lesson was pathetically dominated by the Elf, who was attempting to teach her methods. Instantly she caught him swinging at her left and blocked it with a clash of their wooden swords.

"Good," he rasped, suddenly moving. "But left your side open."

He hit her other arm, smacking it mercilessly.

_Great, another bruise. _

Arphain's teaching technique was to show then beat at the student till they got it right. Otherwise they ended up with a lot of pain. She had to admit it was working and teaching her fairly quickly. No one wanted to be repeatedly beaten… He saw her flinch and stepped back with his hands up.

"That's enough for today."

She lowered the prop quickly, gulping in air. "Okay."

He tidied up their equipment and escorted her back inside, strolling next to her.

"You're improving rapidly," he said.

"That's good to hear." _I've spent enough days watching Boromir swing that damn sword around, and getting pummeled by you-_

The air was pierced by a series of neighs as they passed into the main courtyard, Eva half tripping on the flagstones. A band of heavily loaded white horses milled around in the middle, surrounded by a group of Elves and familiar faces. With bated breath, she hurried over, sidestepping everyone in the process. Her hand touched a shoulder in disbelief, her voice quiet.

"Boromir."

He nearly knocked her over as he whipped around in surprise. Spurred by the somersaulting butterflies in her stomach, she flung both arms around his neck.

"I missed you," she whispered, her feelings from the past days washing away.

She felt him exhale in relief and he laughed, grasping her waist to lift her closer. Her name repeated in her ear, his presence filling her with peace and content.

"So did I," he said.

* * *

Translation(s): 

Mereth: -"Ce roch?" (Are you a horse?)

-"Maer. Peditham rim edhellen; ab îdh." (Good. We will speak much Elvish; after food.)

-"Glassen." (My pleasure.)

-"Hannon hiril nín." (Thanks, my lady.)

Eva: -"Law. Im adanath." (No. I am of Men.)

-"Im adaneth." (I am a mortal woman.)

* * *

**S/N (story notes): **To straighten some things out: No, Mereth is not poisoning her! Lol. And Yavanna is the Vala of growing things (a goddess-like being in Middle-Earth). I had fun with Glûdhad's name. In Sindarin, it means "to hurl soap."

**A/N: **I know, where have I been? It doesn't surprise me anymore that I've been getting chapters up when I'm home for breaks. Why do I work better here? It's probably my fuzzy creatures. Yeah. I'm amazed to even be writing this after my first year in college. Overall it was awesome, but some parts were beyond awful. Besides the roommate from hell (oh forget it, she is Satan) and some of the stupidest professors, I was running around everywhere. I had to prepare for spring livestock events, watch cows and sheep birth, and who knows what. (Those parts were good) I think it was worth it in the end.

I only regret being too occupied or depressed to write this story. Hey it's here, and I've got the next chapter in mind. I'm hoping to get a couple out before the summer's over and I go back to college. Oh, and the coolest thing happened during spring break, I finally met one of my best-friends from Sicily Bean! (Ayla) After two years of knowing each other and even pairing up on a story, I went to California to see her. It was loads of fun, we even locked ourselves in the house for two days, working on our fanfic. (That's another thing I need to resuscitate. )

Thanks for coming back to read and review!


	22. Ch 22: Hands

**A/N: **Dedicated to Sicily Bean, my co-author, inspirator, and best-friend.

--Squee warning! And a few other things ;)--

Chapter Twenty-two: Hands

_-"We are asleep with compasses in our hands." _

_-W. S. Merwin_

-"_Let others lead small lives, but not you. _

_Let others argue over small things, but not you. _

_Let others cry over small hurts, but not you. _

_Let others leave their future in someone else's hands, but not you."  
-Jim Rohn_

-"_You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow."  
-Amy Lowell_

**November 13th continued…**

"So did I," said Boromir.

His voice was low and joyous, but rattled to a whisper as he softly kissed her cheek. His chin felt rougher than usual, a thicker beard coating his broad jaw. Wonderingly she touched his face, catching a fervent glint in his eyes she'd never seen before.

They paused deliberately, but it passed a moment later and he reluctantly lowered her onto the ground. He passed his belongings to a nearby Elf with hurried instructions, while keeping an arm tightly around her waist. He slid her closer to his side and turned them for the courtyard gate, away from prying eyes.

"It seemed like you were gone forever," she said distantly, not looking at him.

The shadow of the towering house fell on them as they passed underneath an archway, hiding his face from her. She heard him sigh slowly as he pulled away and stopped them there. "My Eva," he said troubledly. "What's done is done, but I promise never shall you again have grief at my parting. Not even if the forces of Ennor cast us asunder."

"Don't worry about it," she said. She clutched his hand and squeezed it assuringly, smiling mysteriously. "We'll make up for lost time."

His face brightened considerably, and leaned tantalizingly close. "Yes indeed. We have much to _discuss_."

The thewy resonance and warmth of his body pervaded the space between them, urging her to fling herself at him, but she put her hands on his chest and stepped back slightly. Her heart was thudding like a horse rearing and kicking in his stall, on the other hand reality began to lull her mind back to sanity.

It didn't matter that much to her anymore, but he _had _abandoned her.

She absorbed him for another moment, then stepped back reluctantly, holding her nose. "Yes, but first my lord you need a bath."

"Is that right?" he said, grasping at her.

She evaded him and yelped amusedly, keeping a step ahead as they went upstairs.

.-.-.-.

The faint scent of lye and bath oils drifted across the coverlet, as Boromir plopped down onto the bed. He edged next to Eva until their legs touched, his damp hair falling around his face. He smiled down at her, and she brushed the stray locks from his face, touching it gently.

"Satisfied?" he said, kissing her temple.

"Very," she said, grinning.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her close, their eyes in a constant gaze. "So what have you been up to while I was gone?"

She felt guilty pleasure stir in her stomach as she answered innocently, "Nothing really." A small flicker of remorse flashed amongst his deep pools of grey, convincing her to add, "And—I started learning Sindarin."

Boromir smirked knowingly. "Oh? Show me."

She whispered in his ear, "Ae anírach sa, hîr nín. Gerin rim cyru."

He lifted an eyebrow and moved his face so he could look at her, surprise written in his expression. "Maer, hiril melwa nín."

He studied her silently, and moments later the muscled arm around her tightened then let her go. Reaching for his satchel on a nearby chair, he stealthily opened it; not letting her see what was inside. Eva propped herself up on her elbows, watching him curiously. He turned towards her again, his fist clenched tightly. He reclaimed her in his arms and took one of her hands, sliding something small but heavy into her palm.

His chin settled onto her shoulder, an expectant tone in his voice. "I brought this back for you."

She slowly opened her fingers and found he'd given her a stunning brooch. It glimmered with bright silver, its form in the shape of a bowing swan. Its body and extended wings were of a large luminous pearl and a series of smaller ones, their surface a lustrous creamy sheen.

"It was made by the Teleri of Lindon. Círdan the Shipwright's wife gave it to me for you."

"It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever been given."

"I would say the same about you," he said, his cheek touching hers.

A red tinge crept into her face, and she shyly looked up at him. Awkwardly she lifted the brooch to the base of her neckline, and fiddled with the clasp until it was securely in place. Boromir touched it briefly, then met her lips, eager and warm. One of his hands cradled her chin as he began kissing down the side of her neck. Her eyes darkened as she sank into his embrace and the depths of the bliss enveloping her. His hands were clasped in the middle of her back, sending ripples of delight into her whenever they moved. A tide of yearning and reverence flooded her insides, leaving her lightheaded and almost dizzy.

_Was it possible? She couldn't…but it was true…_

Her breath shortened and caught in her throat as she murmured breathlessly, "I love you."

He completely froze, and she felt him quiver against her. He lifted his face to meet hers, a strange heaviness in his grey gaze. An overwhelmed breath escaped him, and he suddenly laughed in joy, abruptly seizing her. They toppled backward onto the bed, Eva trapped beneath him.

He hung his head low near her ear and repeated the same three words, his voice shaking. "I love you Eva…I love you."

.-.-.-.

**November 14**

The afternoon sun was hidden behind banks of heavy clouds, its light swallowed up in the greyness of the sky. A faint coldness followed Eva's weary footsteps into the house, causing her to pull the cloak tighter. She gathered what was left of her strength, and climbed the stairs hopefully. She made her way to Boromir's room, quietly opening the door when she reached it. She found him on the couch in front of his fireplace with his traveling gear. He hardly noticed her or the quiet greeting, and continued working on one of his weapons. She slipped off her cloak and went to him, bending to rest her chin on his shoulder. He stopped and placed his things on the floor, leaning against her as she clasped her arms around him.

He grasped them in his own, and lifted his head. "Where'd you slip off to this morning?" he asked curiously.

"Oh Mereth dragged me to one of the archives to study again," she said, sighing.

In truth, Arphain had retrieved her in the early hours of the day to practice. This session had taken a big toll on her; every body part feeling like it was taxed to its breaking point. She'd told him to increase the pace, especially since she wanted to show Boromir someday soon the fruits of her labor. The intensity had tested her absolute limits, but her endurance had been surprising. The hard months of travel and past poundings were paying off, now matter how much pain they'd carried.

_I don't want to tell him just yet…._

"I can have a word with her if you'd like," he said.

"No, it's alright. She means well and I _am_ learning."

"I suppose t'is good for you," he said resignedly. "Hmph, _your_ Elf does hair, food, and doesn't complain when you ask for something."

Eva stifled a laugh. "Poor love. Mayhap I could find someone to dress your hair."

She felt him chortle, but he stifled it with a growl. Suddenly he yanked her forward, causing her to tumble into his lap. He wrestled with her for a moment, until she gave in and kissed him in defeat.

When they managed to settle down, he looked at her meaningfully. "I've been thinking of teaching you some things myself…perhaps we'll start tomorrow."

"Really? Like what?" she said mischievously.

He paused and raised an eyebrow high. "Self-defense to begin with. I think I've put it off far too long."

Her eyes widened in surprise. _Did she hear that right?_ "You think I can do it?"

His head tilted as he studied her face closely. "Did I ever say you could not?"

"Yes"

He dropped his head guiltily. "Oh Eva, how do you love such a stubborn fool? I may have put your life in jeopardy-"

She put a finger to his lips, and shushed him. "Boromir, you have done nothing but protect me—and for that I am forever grateful."

.-.-.-.

A bleary dim line crossed her vision, catching Eva off-guard as she tossed onto her side. Her senses came back sluggishly, until it dawned on her she was laying on a bed. She blinked furiously and slowly wrenched herself from the soft bed, to see she was still in Boromir's room. He was on the couch by the fireplace, but now strangely engrossed in a book.

"What happened?" she asked, rubbing her forehead.

He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. "Evening sleepy head," he said teasingly. "You dropped like a stone when we were talking. Am I truly that boring?"

"Of course not," she said in horror. "It's th—that I'm just so tired today."

"From what exactly?" he asked, seeming quite curious.

_Oops. _"You know very well. After all, it was you who gave me no peace last night."

"When a gorgeous woman professes her love to me, I have no choice but to take advantage—I mean return the favor."

He was hit a minute later by a pillow that came flying from the direction of the bed.

"Like you got that far," she laughed.

"Well someday I will," he said, coming at her.

Another pillow hit him in the head, followed by Eva leaping at him.

.-.-.-.

**November 15**

"Hold your ground."

Boromir's voice rang out through the empty courtyard, commanding and deep. He traversed the ground in front of Eva intently, the power and strength of him displayed like a prowling lion. A fiery gleam lit his eyes like lightning amongst storm clouds, intensely calculating and confident. The blade in his outstretched hand shone yellow-white to its dull edges, but heavy and intimidating in the Gondorian's grasp.

"Remember the form and moves we practiced," he said.

She gave the barest nod, trying to keep herself steady. An uneasy quake rattled in her chest, her nerve beginning to unravel yet again. This whole affair was scaring the crap out of her. No wonder he was among the mightiest Men of Middle-earth…

He started forward quickly, and she exhaled hard to prepare for him.

_Okay, just forget. Concentrate. Do what Arphain said. Swallow it, solidify body and mind…_

The shaking stopped, collapsing into a surge of energy that spread to her limbs. She sprung at him, her arm swinging through the air. Their practice swords met with a loud clang, Boromir's attack blocked. The metal grated in their ears as they separated and clashed over and over again, his blows checked with hers. She could tell he was purposefully holding back, going easy on her but also underestimating her ability.

_This should be fun…_

She maneuvered free, letting him closer and earning a disappointed glance.

_She gave me ground—_

Abruptly she struck hard, the momentum forcing him backward. He moved for retaliation, but she skirted the edge of his blade, her feet darting gracefully. She swung at the opening, but he ducked and twisted upward to meet her. For a brief moment, their eyes met, allowing her to see how surprised he was.

Throwing herself into each swing, she tried to beat him down, but he surged against her, his defense strengthening. His stride was bold and rhythmic, each step light and quick as wind. They met blow by blow, their bodies pirouetting around each other. Her heartbeat grew faster with every whirlwind moment, adrenaline and determination flooding her with a ferocity she'd never felt before.

She tightened her fingers on the grip, its hold becoming slipperier. Boromir dodged another of her aims, grinning widely as she growled at him in frustration. However, her next strike caught him off guard throwing his balance precariously.

_It's all or nothing._

Her sword edge drove at the back of his knees, every muscle in her body pouring into it. He toppled sideways, his blade wildly meeting hers. He stumbled and suddenly struck again, forcing the sword from her awkward and weakened hold. She avoided his next swing, but he lashed out, seizing her by the leg. She plunged her knee into his stomach, throwing both of them off-balance.

_Ow._

She collided with the ground, the force almost knocking her senseless. He pounced at her a moment later, but she pushed him in the chest. He pulled her over by the shirt, throwing them into a tumbling struggle. In the middle of it, her hand flashed to the rear of his belt, grasping blindly. Swiftly he pinned her down, but realized a second later that his dagger was at his throat.

His triumphant laugh died against the steel, his eyes wide in shock.

"Eva?" he rasped.

She panted for needed air, asking troubledly, "Do you yield?"

He struggled with himself, but said lowly, "Aye. I yield."

Her arms dropped like leaden weights, and she exhaled loudly. Boromir regained his feet, helping her sit upright and squeezing her hands.

He gazed at her intently, his voice thick. "Eva, that was amazing. Where--"

He froze, unexpectedly flipping her hands over and studying her palms. She had a series of calluses and fresh raw marks patterned there, signs of her ongoing defense lessons.

She cringed at the look on his face, confessing, "I—I've been learning from the Elves."

She dropped her face, but he put a hand beneath her chin and tenderly brushed her forehead. He kissed it and studied her brightly, hiding a dazed smile. His eyes were full of her, admiring and devoted.

"My Evelyn."

They spent a chunk of time recuperating in the courtyard, before they made their way into the house. At the stairwell nigh their quarters, they parted until later. They were absolutely filthy.

.-.-.-.

The damp waves of hair fell down Eva's back as she toweled it dry. She lifted a brush from the tabletop and ran it through quickly. She had hurried ahead of Mereth, hardly caring to wait for the handmaiden. A weary yet joyous feeling was alive in her veins. She couldn't explain how or why, but she grew happier with every moment of these past days, since Boromir had returned to her. A flash of the afternoon came across her vision: Boromir's powerful and assured movement, his freely grinning face whenever he caught her by the waist, his hold tender but strong.

A dizzying lightness spun in her head while she swung out of the chair, dashing madly to her door. It opened with her fingers on the handle, Mereth appearing before her, somewhat shocked.

"Milady, you didn't wait for me?"

"No, no. There isn't waiting when you're in love," she said to the elleth, kindly nudging her aside.

Her bare feet met the chilled stone walkway, reminding her that she wasn't wearing shoes. She didn't really care.

Boromir's door was unlocked, and fell gaping open when she entered. He turned from his armoire in surprise, studying her intently.

"Woman, you're mad fast. You caught me half dressed."

He was quite right, for his tunic was untied and flung open, revealing the broad hard muscles of his chest. Eva literally felt part of herself melt as she came close to him.

"From the look of things, you're halfway done yourself," he said amusedly.

She moved to pull back her hair, but he stopped her. He grabbed her firmly, and entwined his hand generously in it. "No, leave it down," he said softly. "It's perfect like that. Just as you are perfect."

A scent suddenly caught her attention, and she drew back interestedly. "What is that?"

"I knew you were tired from our session, so I requested your handmaiden bring food to my room."

A swell of gratitude and relief filled her—she was so damn hungry. Helpfully he sat her on the bed, dragging a nearby table in front of her. He settled next to her, and she pecked him on the cheek.

"You darling."

"T'was nothing my warrior lass." He gathered a plate and placed it before her, inclining his head. "Your dinner my lady. Enjoy."

"Thank you my lord."

He did likewise for himself, and they carried on with dinner. During the flurry of tastes and long discussion, they satiated their hunger but felt it replaced by something else. Boromir chuckled, interrupting her while she placed her fork on the table. He closed the space between them, hovering next to her cheek.

"You have something here." His fingers brushed her chin, wiping a crumb from her chin. "There," he said, eyes locked onto hers.

The air intensified between them, his face nearing hers. Her breath caught when he kissed her, igniting one of those rarer fervent moments he excelled at. She sighed, each of them entwining in the other's arms.

They fell away from the table, hopelessly lost as need surged in them. Somewhere between the long kisses and heavy wandering hands, Boromir felt something change. He found an openness emerge in Eva's movements, hurried and passionate as his. He paused a moment, leaving the curve of her neck to gaze into her gleaming blue eyes. He could feel the mounting urgency in him, but was she—as well?

They were wide but deep, such longing and love in them it made his heart beat faster.

"Eva?" he questioned almost inaudibly.

"Boromir," she murmured. Her hands clenched tighter, her breathing ragged. "Make me yours."

A flood of wonder struck him, but amidst it, a cold pang of fear. "I want—are you sure love?"

"Yes," she said.

Her hands moved a second later, and he was assured of her answer. In their dreamy haste, they cherishingly slid each other's clothes to the floor and whispered their praises. The minutes following, they finally connected flesh to flesh. Boromir held her reverently, but moved with the passion he'd held within so long.

The fire and zenith of pleasure consumed them, overwhelming the brief bits of pain and confusion. The warmth and love flowed between them, cocooning the pair in an envelope bright and pure as the sun. Memories of her presence and individual beauty filled his mind as he relished her, this woman he had only known for months but would love eternally. The gasps and words between them floated him back to the moment in the river, when he had first truly touched her, their souls melting together.

Among the collision of their bodies, he thought he could hear the waves afar, breaking on the shore. No, they were the water, wave upon wave crashing upon each other and melding into one. The tide overtook them with mind numbing force, over and over, until their strength was spent, and fervor quenched.

He collapsed onto her chest, his voice staggering as he murmured into her ear. Her gentle hands wiped the sweat from his brow, and his ear met the strong beat of her heart. It leapt like a rabbit, the resonance assuring and steady while it poured into him.

.-.-.-.

**November 16**

The sun was hot and luminous the next morning, its beams drenching through the windows of Boromir's room. The walls were ablaze like fresh snow, a white sea interspersed with meadows of green. The tapestry above the bed was brighter than emerald, its inlaid gold throwing sparkling webs onto the pair as they dressed.

They silently gathered their respective clothes, which were strewn in a careless ring nigh the bed. Unabashedly she reveled in his strong gaze, trying not to laugh while she pulled on her red dress. Occasionally a glimmer of penitence sprung into his face, but quickly passed when she smiled at him. He was disquieted by the crimson stain on the sheets, but she'd decisively crumpled and tossed them into a corner.

He was finishing with his shirt when she started on her laces, but paused halfway through. A moment later, she felt his long familiar fingers touch her back, and her dress begin to close.

"Thank you," she said.

"I'd rather be taking this off you," he said gruffly.

She restrained herself with amusement, hearing the hoarse tone in his voice. Several dirty things popped into her head, but she pushed them away. She kept surprising herself, no matter how overwhelming and thrilling this was to her. There was no shame in what they'd done, merely love and fulfillment. They were wholly connected now, their lives completely escalated to this new level.

_Nothing to stop us now…_

She sighed wonderingly and turned around when he'd completed the final knot. He kissed her with finality and stepped away, trying to hide a smirk.

"Till later."

He pivoted and opened the chamber door, leaving her standing dreamily in the middle of the floor.

* * *

**S/N: **Erm, I know some people have portrayed Boromir as not speaking Elvish…but Sindarin was a well used tongue of Gondor. Check under "Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit" and you'll see even the "lowly" Rangers of Ithilien spoke it.

As for the chapter, I haven't done my usual traditional editing, though I did best as I could by computer screen. I really wanted to get this up for all of you! I'm sorry if anything was really unexpected. I had fun writing all Boromir/Eva scenes, which hasn't been possible for awhile. If you have any questions or comments, please review or feel free to e-mail me. I _always_ respond!

_Translations:_

"Ae anírach sa, hîr nín. Gerin rim cyru." (If you wish it, my lord. I have many skills.)

"Maer, hiril melwa nín. So you have been busy." (Good, my lovely lady).

.-.-.-.

**A/N: _peeks from behind corner_** Uh hi…remember me? Like I have said before, I will never give up this story. I may have to drain my brain and type till I get carpal tunnel, but it will get done and updated. All the reviews (and hits **_faint_**) have been a big morale booster. The person I have to thank most of all is Ayla, (Sicily Bean) who got me into fanfiction in the first place and inspired my own Boromir story. I spent two weeks at her house (again) this February, during my twentieth birthday. I'm in the middle of taking a break from my university, so I have more freetime and was able to visit her in California. I nearly got this chapter done while I was there and kicked my writing in the pants. I even collaborated a bit on the rewrite of her "I Wish Upon Tonight" series. It's freaking awesome!

She's a very inspiring influence, especially when we went "Bean" nuts after buying one of his movies online. It involved full-frontal views…oh yeah. ;)

Thanks for reading and sticking by...

_Disclaimer:_ No Boromir is not mine (damn it!) nor Middle-earth and its affiliations. :( But Eva and all original characters and word composition are mine, so nyah.


	23. Ch 23: Crossroads

Story Notes S/N: Anything in _italics _denotes the beginning or end of a dream. Just so you know!

Chapter Twenty-three: Crossroads

"_Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind."  
-Henri Frederic Amiel_

"_It is the quest of our self that drives us along the eternal and never-ending journey we must all make."  
-Max Beckmann_

**November 16****continued…**

The faint scratching on paper pervaded the quiet of the room, stopping every once in awhile as Eva blotted a bit of ink. She put down the writing instrument and gingerly lifted the paper edge, glancing at the dozen pages she'd just written. Everything she could remember or dreamed about these past few months was scrawled onto the ivory surface of this book that Cynuise had given her. However, it seemed like she'd barely started, there was so much room left.

A quiet sigh escaped her, and she settled back into the desk chair. She'd gotten all her feelings out, but worry and anxiety clung to the edges of her thoughts.

Suddenly she pivoted in her chair and said over loudly, "Mereth!"

The elleth jumped from her place on the floor, a threaded needle tumbling from her fingertips. She eyed the woman questioningly. "Mi- yes?"

"I- I'm sorry to bother you. But it's rather important."

"Why did you not bring it up until now?"

She hesitated, not really wanting to broach the subject. "Do you know of methods against--begetting?"

"Would not a noblewoman wish for progeny, especially those of the future Steward of Gondor?"

"It's more…complicated than that," she replied, her cheeks reddening. "It's best to not tempt nature right now."

"As you wish," she said hesitantly. "It is called Galascen. I will leave a stock of it in the corner tonight." Mereth looked at her for a minute longer, and returned to her sewing.

**November 25**

The sun was low and waning in the sky, a slight chill hovering in the air. Eva pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders, and sighed. She looked forlornly at the naked trees lining the walkway; she was beginning to miss the warmer weather. On summer nights, the Elves would gather and sing forgotten songs in ancient and beautiful tongue. Boromir squeezed her hand and quickened his pace, taking her out of the garden. They had reached the main courtyard, when a loud commotion drew their attention. The front gates sprang open and a flurry of horses passed them, towards the stables. Eva stopped in surprise, eyeing the passersby, when she caught sight of a familiar face: Aragorn.

Their parting words range in her ears, and she broke from Boromir's side, following the clatter of hooves down the road. She reached the stables, finding the group of horses unmounted and their riders already gone. One of the grooms nodded to her and led away a horse. The hope rising in her chest sank like a stone when she saw Boromir standing in the walkway behind her. She had thought nothing of what he meant when she ran off, hoping the riders brought news of her way home. He stood watching her knowingly and he stretched out his hand. Guiltily she slid to his side and returned with him to the courtyard.

.-.-.-.

The Galascen was bittersweet as Eva half choked it down, reminding herself that it was necessary. Carefully she placed the cup back onto the table, hoping Boromir wouldn't notice too much. She removed her robe and turned towards her bed. She smiled mischievously at the tall dark figure waiting there, veiled in the dark shadows thrown by candlelight. She climbed onto the coverlet and laughed as he grabbed her, immediately pulling at her gown. She gasped, sinking into his warmth and the covered bliss that night provided them. When at last they lay exhausted in each other's arms, Boromir slid his hand over her hip, stroking it gently. She shuddered and gazed upwards at him.

His breath caught and she touched his cheek, asking, "What is it?"

He clutched her closer, sending tingled down her belly as he breathed against her neck. "Eva, do you wish for us to be parted?"

"Never," she said softly.

"This afternoon in the courtyard, I know what news those riders bring."

"Boromir-"

"I do not wish to stop your journey home, nor would I ask you to tie yourself to me. I love you beyond measure, but you must do as your heart desires."

"And you must fulfill your duties," she whispered. She rolled over and caught his lips, silencing him with a kiss. "My heart desires _you_."

**November 27**

"…that was when the man told me his real name, Theodred." The quill paused as Eva laughed to herself, remembering Boromir's expression. Despite the amount of time they'd been spending together, she had worked on her journal the majority of the day. He had been called away to yet more meetings. Unexpectedly, the door creaked open, admitting Mereth into the study. Eva lifted her head and motioned the elleth in.

"Lord Elrond has summoned you. He wishes to discuss urgent matters with you."

Trying to contain her excitement, Eva slapped her book shut and hastened after her. She was led to the large library where she'd first met Elrond, on the night of their arrival. The room seemed too still and empty, despite the fact it was filled with furnishings and books. The Elf Lord stood to greet her and motioned to the chair opposite his. He folded his long grey robes and sat down slowly, his shoulders seeming weighted and his eyes tired.

"Good evening," she said quietly, his presence was still intimidating.

"My apologies for calling you here so late," he said. "There are many things to discuss. I have had much news as of late."

"Of me or the Ring?"

"The other does concern you in a way." He grimaced and shook his head. "But it is not for me to discuss with you. This news came-"

"From Lorien?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but did not seem surprised. "I would ask if you know will occur, but I would not ask you to tell me. Such is not for my ears."

"I do know some things," she answered faintly. "But not as much as I once did. I'm afraid I'm losing grasp of everything, that somehow my being here has changed what will happen."

"Do not fear it, for we cannot learn anything unless we go from the known to the unknown." The Elf leaned forward in his chair, and uncrossed his hands. "In Lorien, my kinswoman Galadriel heard your case from Aragorn."

Eva stared at him eagerly, unable to stop the hope rising in her chest. "What did she say?"

"She informs you there are ways you can return home, and she may be able to help you."

Her breath came in a sharp rasp, and she lowered her head, hardly believing it. "I didn't think it was possible."

"It may not be, but she is best suited to help you now. If you so choose it…" He steadily watched her, as if knowing what she were about to say.

"Now that you mention it." Eva raised her head and looked at him sadly. "I need your wisdom Lord Elrond. It's about Boromir."

.-.-.-.

Boromir's footsteps were slow and quiet as he crossed the veranda, a cool wind blowing in his face. He turned a corner and stopped, having found what he was looking for. Eva stood in front of a railing overlooking the back courtyard. She stood still as stone, though the wind whipped her long hair around her like a dark flag. Guardedly he leaned against the railing next to her, and took one of her hands. She barely looked at him, and there was limpness in her grasp that worried him. Her skin was very cold, as if she'd been standing outside for a quite some time.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She weakly squeezed his palm, which was warm and comforting. "I met with Elrond tonight. The riders did bring news for me—Elrond thinks there's a way home for me….in Lothlórien."

A pang struck him deep down, but he swallowed it and said forcedly, "What was your decision?"

"Nothing. I said I don't know yet."

"Eva."

"I can't—" She turned to him, her eyes empty and glittering like ice. "How could I leave you?"

His confidence cracked and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "We talked about this—but I—don't know either." He sighed deeply, and bowed his head. "Gandalf spoke with me today. The Ring will depart in one month, and Aragorn wishes to join the escort. They have requested I join on my way home, since our paths lie together."

"Home," Eva murmured. "I'm not sure where that is anymore, only when I'm with you." She fell into his embrace, burying her head against his shoulder. Part of her fought against the words, but her heart spilled over. "Take me with you."

Boromir stroked her hair and said softly, "I'm sorry, I can't. You know it's too dangerous. I would rather die than jeopardize your safety in such a manner."

He braced, expecting a fiery reply, but she only muttered, "I understand." A sinking feeling grasped her insides, mixed with helplessness and sorrow at not being able to stop him.

"I would desire nothing more than to have you by my side in Minas Tirith, to fight the shadow. I cannot abandon the Ring's companions or Aragorn. I already gave my word and I cannot go back on it." He lifted her chin with a finger, locking their searching eyes together. "You could choose to go to my city and wait for me love, or find your way home. There you would be away from this darkness and grief."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "But alone."

**November 28**

_The chimes clanged softly in the steady wind that blew across the porch, rustling the clothes of the tall woman standing on the steps._

"Kel," she called. "Kelvyn!"

Her eyes roved the bordering woods near the house, anxiety beginning to build in her chest. A small dark haired boy suddenly scrambled from behind the trees, and ran toward her, nearly dropping his sandals as he ran barefoot across the lawn. He skidded to a halt before her, a mischievous grin on his face.

"I called you a dozen times."

"Sorry Mom, I couldn't hear you," he said, taking a deep breath.

She took in his wet clothes and hair, and pockets bulging with rocks. Ordinarily she might have been amused at his antics, but she crossed her arms.

"Were you in the creek?" she asked worriedly.

His grin fade and the twinkle disappeared from his grey eyes. "Yes."

She leaned down and touched his head, brushing his hair softly. "Please don't go near it again. It's very dangerous."

"I don't see what's wrong with it." The boy grunted at her and stomped past her on the stairs, mumbling. "You didn't tell me what happened there."

She winced as he slammed the front door, rattling the porch.

_A deep bellowing call echoed behind her and she turned to find herself on a desolate and rocky field. _Upon mounds of naked stone, stood tall men with armor and swords of bright steel, helpless as a black sea of evil creatures swarmed towards them. In the center of each rose many banners, of a flowering Tree, White Horse, or Silver Swan. The horn called once more, and others rose to join it, the groups of men hurtling forward together. One of the leaders dropped his horn and raised a sword, drawing her attention. She watched Boromir fight his way into the horde, cutting down all enemies in his path. However, he was outnumbered ten to one; eventually swarms of Orcs struck him down and trampled his lifeless body into the ground.

_Trying to run from the scene, she found herself in a forest, watching him die in a flurry of arrows. Screaming, she fled again and ran, covering her eyes…_

Eva jolted awake, barely breathing as she fearfully surveyed the room, finding herself still in bed. Swear plastered strands of hair to her forehead, and she took in air raspingly, trying to quell the panic in her chest. She untwisted the sheets from around her legs and slid from the bed. She watched Boromir sleeping for a moment, and slipped out the door. She raced aimlessly across the cold stone terrace her heart beating madly.

She had made her decision.

* * *

**Author's Note A/N: **If you noticed any mistakes (besides spelling), they were intentional. (wink wink). Sorry this is kind of rough, but I know you guys were waiting a long time...


	24. Ch 24: Heart's Farewell

Chapter Twenty-Four: Heart's Farewell

_Now that the time has come,  
Soon gone is the day,  
There upon some distant shore  
You'll hear me say,_

_Long as the day in the summer time,  
Deep as the wine dark sea  
I'll keep your heart with mine.  
Till you come to me._

_-"Penelope's Song," by Loreena McKennitt_

"_Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing_

_And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:_

_The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing." _

_-William Shakespeare_

**November 28 continued…**

At dawn, the bedroom door swung open noiselessly as Eva entered. Boromir was already awake and sitting upright on the bed, going through his belongings. He smiled at her and slid several things into his bag.

"Up before the sun? Very unusual for you," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She sighed and collapsed beside him on the bed. "I couldn't sleep last night. I stayed up thinking."

"About?"

Eva closed her eyes a moment, feeling as if her heart were stopping. "I- I've decided to go to Lórien, to see if I can make it home."

He gazed at her intently, and rubbed his chin. "If that is your choice, I hope things go as planned. If not, would you come to Minas Tirith?"

"Yes, of course."

He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. She saw the wavering doubt in his grey eyes, and realized the difficulty he was having too. She kissed his lips and lingered there, absorbing his warmth and strength. Boromir leaned back and studied her face, gently brushing hair from it.

"What's wrong?"

"I had nightmares—about you dying."

"They were only dreams," he whispered.

"They seemed more like visions, they were so vivid."

"I cannot guarantee anything against the forces of fate, but I will on my honor, do the best to stop such a thing. For my truest wish is to find you in Minas Tirith, and I would not make that wait in vain."

.-.-.-.

The quill scratched the paper slowly, as each word was forced out from a troubled mind. Eva kept all focus on her writing, trying to keep all other thoughts from her head. There was a deep crack in her heart that was beginning to widen. She was assured of her decision, but it seemed like a wall was already between her and Boromir, separating them. She was so absorbed, she barely heard the knock on the door.

"Come in."

She glanced at the entrance, expecting Mereth or Boromir, but instead found Elrond. Abruptly she stood up, almost knocking her chair backward.

"Forgive me, I was expecting someone else."

He raised a hand and entered. "I have come to discuss your departure. Your handmaiden informed me of your decision."

Eva nodded and cleared the couch for him. "That was fast. I gave her the note an hour ago."

He sat down and folded his robes together. Eva took a seat across from him, and leaned forward eagerly.

"With all honesty, I prepared for your departure after our discussion. I needed the time to set up other matters as well. Have you informed Boromir of your choice?"

"Yes," she said sadly. "I feel as if I've done both of us a great injury, from which we may not recover. But it had to be done, what else could I do?"

"I believe your hearts are one," he said quietly. "He has spoken of the matter to me, and I do not believe you will be sundered forever."

She twisted her hands fretfully, fearing his words. "Then you do not think I will return home?"

"I think something else is at work here, and whatever happens will be beyond anticipation. Whether it is positive or negative, I cannot say. Your choice was correct; I think the way will be made clear in Lórien."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"About your journey…I have already formed your escort, if you approve."

"Who will I be traveling with?"

"First of all, your handmaiden Mereth, her request. Two soldiers for protection, one of which is your tutor, Arphain. A messenger will also go along, to carry my business."

"I'm surprised they want to go."

"They were quite emphatic about helping you," he said, with a small smile. "You'll need that on your way."

"Another thing is bothering me about leaving," she said. "I had these very real nightmares, where I saw Boromir getting killed. I feel as if it's doomed to happen, and I can't stop it."

He gazed at her solemnly, his face grave. "This is quite serious indeed. It is possible these dreams have merit, through some relation to your forgotten memories. Or, they could result from your anxiety about leaving. Have you spoken with Boromir about it?"

"Yes."

"Then the tides may have already changed."

.-.-.-.

After dinner, Eva retreated to her room, needing more time to herself. When she opened her bedroom door, she gaped at the sight before her. Stacks of clothes and items were scattered across her room, hiding almost every inch of furniture.

"What the-"

"Oh, there you are." Mereth popped out from behind a corner, and urged her over. "I've been going through all of your things—"

"I have this many clothes?"

She nodded and led the woman over to the couch, beaming. "I've kept you well dressed. I need to sort through everything by tomorrow."

"What for?"

"We're leaving on the tenth of Hrívë, in two days."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," said Eva, grimacing.

"Yes," said Mereth cheerily. "This is why we must get you ready."

They went through piles of clothes and shoes, choosing which ones would wear well on the journey. The elleth held up a pale red dress, and shook her head.

"This is too thin, you'll freeze."

Eva longingly looked at it, but threw it aside with the others.

"Mereth," she said, watching her hold up stockings. "I do appreciate all that you have done for me, especially volunteering to go with me. I need a familiar face along, or I might not make it."

To her surprise, Mereth suddenly dropped the stockings and hugged her. "Thank you milady for giving me the chance to travel. My brother is overly protective. I have never been farther from Rivendell than the ford."

"You're welcome," said Eva, patting her uneasily on the back.

"Some days I fear he will send me to the Grey Havens," she said softly. "I could not bear that, I love this land too much."

Mereth fell silent and continued going through the mound of things Eva had collected during her stay in Rivendell. At the very bottom, they found several pairs of awkwardly knitted hats, scarves, and mittens made from green and blue wool.

"Give those to the hobbits," Eva said, smiling.

**November 29**

Their breath mingled as his lips pressed upon hers and trailed down the side of her cheek. Sweat rolled on his forehead, and there were marks upon his back from where she'd dug at him in pure ecstasy.

"I shall never forget every inch of you," Boromir whispered.

The pain and sorrow in Eva's chest threatened to swell to the surface, fighting with the love and warmth she felt at that moment.

Swallowing her grief, she said, "Make me forget." She slid her hands downward, and gasped as he moved against her.

After another hour, they finally collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Their muscles ached and their hearts beat wildly as they lay entwined. Eva stroked Boromir's beard and tenderly kissed him once more, before dropping her head onto his chest. They were still for several minutes, until their pulses had settled. Boromir slowly slid up onto his elbows and lifted his pillow, pulling out a small piece of folded cloth. He took her hand and placed it in her palm

Bewildered, she unwrapped it, finding a large silver ring looped through a fine chain. It was set with a series of eagles and a small white star in the middle. She recognized it from the few times Boromir had taken it from its hiding place, it was his ring.

"It is passed from heir to heir, and borne until a son is ready to take his father's chair as Steward."

"I can't take this," she said breathlessly. "It's too valuable."

"It will give you passage across many territories. If we are destined to never meet again, leave it with Mereth. She will return it to my father in Minas Tirith, as I have instructed." He claimed it from her grasp, and placed it around her neck. "Now you cannot possibly lose it."

"Alright fine," she said, smiling at him wistfully. "You know, she's my handmaiden."

"Yes, but she has laid out my stockings each morning since you started sharing my bed."

Eva laughed as he rolled her onto the mattress, and kissed her gently.

**November 30**

The last of autumns leafs swirled around them in the garden, and there was crispness to the air that told it was ready for winter. The sounds of neighs echoed from the courtyard far off, reminding Eva that her time was short. She burrowed her head further into the crook of Boromir's neck, choking back a sob. He lifted her chin and cupped her face, wiping away several tears that had fallen.

"I love you," she whispered, hugging him.

Slowly she turned her back and walked away, her heart shattering with every step. He followed her to the courtyard, where her entourage was waiting. Mereth came scurrying up, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Where have you been? We're ready to depart."

"I know," she said quietly. "I had something to take care of."

A look passed between the women, and Mereth nodded. She was led to the center of the courtyard, where five horses stood waiting, loaded with supplies. Arphain stepped out from behind the group, and took the reins of one animal, leading it over. He bowed to the three of them, pausing as he saw the elleth.

"Forgive me milady, we've met before. I regret that I do not remember the name of one so fair."

"Mereth," she said, turning a darker shade of pink. "I am companion and handmaiden to Lady Evelyn."

"Ah you're Tûloen's sister. She is very lucky to have you indeed. I hope our journey will be unproblematic." He patted the horse and turned to Eva. "This is your horse, his name is Sadron." Arphain handed the reins to her and motioned to Mereth. "Your mount is this way."

The Elves wandered away, leaving the other two behind. Boromir placed his hand on Eva's shoulder and said low in her ear, "I have faith these Elves will keep you safe."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and they stood still, forgetting all else but each other for several minutes.

"Lady Eva," called Arphain. He trotted over with his horse, gazing at them apologetically. "I'm sorry, but we must depart."

Gently Boromir kissed her forehead and touched her face. The last of Eva's happiness sank into the pit of her stomach, the tear in her heart completing as she broke from him. He took the lead from her and handed it up as she mounted the horse effortlessly.

"I will see you again, Eva," said Boromir, stroking her hand.

"Someday," she said softly.

She signaled the horse and looked at him one last time. Sadron lifted his head to acknowledge his rider, then moved forward quickly, falling in line with the others. The gates closed behind the group, leaving the lone figure standing in the courtyard. Eva closed her eyes and finally allowed the flood of tears to spill forth, her insides twisting.

She had left her heart in Rivendell.

* * *

**Author's Note (A/N): **Sorry if this is rough, but I've been working like crazy on this for the past week. Phew, it's done!


	25. Ch 25: Lady of the Mirror

**S/N (Story Notes): **Suggested re-reading: Chapters 1, 15, 16.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Lady of the Mirror

"_She knows not what the curse may be,_

_And little other care hath she,_

_The Lady of Shalott._

_And moving through a mirror clear_

_That hangs before her all the year,_

_Shadows of the world appear."_

_-Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

.-.-.-.

The days waned faster and the winds colder as they passed farther from Rivendell. They headed southward on narrow paths under the shadows of the Misty Mountains, the land windswept and barren on this side of the rivers. The sun hid beneath grey veils of fog and clouds, adding to the cruel chill of the air. Eva marveled at the skills of the Elves, who knew hidden and twisting paths through the wild countryside. At times the ways grew treacherous, and they were forced to lead their horses one by one. The farther they got from Rivendell, the darker and more forlorn each day seemed.

After one particularly long afternoon of climbing over rough terrain, their party took refuge for the night in a small hollow. It was protected from the wind by thickets and trees, allowing them to build a small fire in the center. They set their blankets in a circle around the flames, and settled under them fully clothed. Despite hot soup and meat, an uncomfortable shiver settled into Eva's belly and would not be moved. In the early hours of morning, a gripping series of cramps awoke Eva, forcing her to leap from her blankets. She broke barefoot towards the outlying bushes and heaved up the last remnants of dinner into the undergrowth. Shaking and her face covered with sweat, she crawled back under the blankets, slipping into a troubled sleep.

The episodes continued for three more days, causing her to grow weak and somber, until Mereth finally took notice. When they had settled once again for camp, the elleth took their guide Rodyn aside after their meal. Eva noticed them arguing and wearily made her way towards them, overhearing part of their conversation.

"We must turn back. Milady is ill; she needs the healers of Rivendell."

"It has been six days since we left; we are more than halfway to Lórien. If she is still taken ill by then, their healers will manage. My people are just as adept as yours—"

"Pardon me," interrupted Eva. "But shouldn't I have a say in this?"

Mereth nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but this is in your best interest."

"It is important for all of us to continue forward," said Rodyn flatly.

"I agree, whether or not I drop dead on the road," replied Eva, her mouth twitching.

"Milady!"

"We all have important business Mereth. We must listen to him and the others."

The elleth slowly giving in, took her by the arm helpfully. "Very well, but you must let me care for you. None of this running into the brush to hide your sickness."

Eva sighed and let herself be tucked into the bedroll with a warm poultice, remaining silent for the rest of the night. It felt as if something was missing, and the rest of her yearned in endless grief for its missing half. The pain kept her moving forward; with the little hope she had left.

On the morning of the eighth day, the skies cleared and the weather grew warmer, lending them more speed on their journey. They emerged near noon on a long green ridge, crowned with multitudes of holly trees, budding in the golden sunlight. For the first time in a week, they heard the twitter of birds and movement of small animals, which served them as dinner that night. The air was wholesome and the last of autumn's plants still clung to life on the ridge. Out of these Mereth made a new concoction for Eva, and managed to stop the heaving which had plagued her continually.

She awoke the next morning feeling more alive, though the hollow dull pain remained in the bottom of her stomach. They set off eastward along the ruins of a broad road, leaving the area for a distant mountain peak, which Arphain called Caradhras. A foreboding feeling crept over them as they climbed higher into the mountain pass, along a narrow and winding road. The weather grew chillier and the wind blew harder, but they managed to keep their pace. Mereth insisted on multiple breaks over their course, despite Rodyn's warning to not interfere. After a day and a half of hard riding, the path left the cliff and ran down a long hazardous slope. They led their horses yet again amongst the hillside of tumbled stone, carefully choosing the way down.

Arphain and Rodyn led, with the rest behind them. Eva fell several times, tearing the skirt of her dress, and scraping her hands thoroughly. As Oropher was helping her stand yet again, a shrill cry rose behind them. They stared in horror as Mereth's horse lost its footing and tumbled down the hillside, narrowly missing the elleth.

"Watch out!" yelled Oropher, yanking her and Sadron out of the way.

The horse skidded to a halt several feet below them and struggled to stand, its eyes wild and head thrown in the air. Eva cautiously approached it, observing as the horse hysterically rolled on its side, struggling to stand. Large gashes covered the soft white coat, and one of the forelegs was at an awkward angle. As she got closer, she realized the leg was in tatters, the bones protruding below the horse's knee. The Elves carefully approached the animal and calmed it, but it was too late. Mereth and Eva were sent farther down the hill with Oropher, while the soldiers put the horse down and covered its body with rocks. Near the bottom of the slope, they rode through a wide shallow trough, Mereth and Eva sharing the same horse. Though she tried to hide it, the elleth silently cried against her lady's back, shedding tears for the lost animal.

At dawn, they passed into a deep cloven valley, veiled in shadows and stillness. High walls of stone rose on either side of them, until it widened and gently sloped downhill. The air was cool and clean, the wind having died down almost completely. The desolate barren landscape became greener and less rocky, until they came across a large wide lake in the midst of the valley. Its surface dark and blue, but it reflected back rays of the sun in bright gleams of silver light. At its other end the arms of the Misty Mountains faded into flat lowlands, covered with trees and evergreens. Despite their need for water, their party did not stop to take their fill, and hurried along a new road through a series of ruins.

"Arphain, why do we not stop?"

The Elf reined his horse in and trotted up alongside them, his voice low. "Lady Mereth, stay quiet. It is rumored there are evil things occupying the Dwarrowdelf nearby. We had best move on from the shadow before it finds us."

She stared at him fearfully, and did not say anything further until they made camp that night beside the Silverlode River.

.-.-.-.

"We're being watched," said Rodyn, smiling.

The two females behind him stood closer together, Eva's hands nervously tightening on Sadron's lead. He nodded to the other soldier and glanced behind him.

"Do not worry, it is only my people. They will not harm you, but remain here." Rodyn laid aside his bow, and carefully crossed the shallow river before them. He stared upward into the trees on the other side, and yelled, "Le suilon!"

To their surprise, two figures clambered down from the shadowed tree tops above. They bowed and laughed merrily, greeting Rodyn with familiarity. They talked for several minutes in low voices, until motioning Arphain to bring the others across. Their group was led onward for a day and a half by the Marchwarden Haldir and his brother Rúmil. The longer they rode, the more alive the forest grew, despite the oncoming depths of winter. The trees became mighty silver trunked giants crowned with gold, the life greener and richer, the air more gentle. They passed hillsides of nameless beauty and the aura of the wood took on an ancient wonder, timeless and alive all at once.

On the second day, as the shadows deepened and the sun fell, they reached the outskirts of Caras Galadhon, the heart of Lothlórien. The elven city rose to great heights atop a large hillside, encircled with green walls and multitudes of massive Mallorns. Their endless crowns of branches reached into the starry evening above, and were lit with innumerable gleams of gold, green, and silver. Eva stared in dumbfounded awe, feeling relief wash over her, despite the intimidating magnificence of their surroundings. Their horses were left at the main gate of the city, leaving them to follow on foot. They were taken along many long walkways, until they reached a wide lawn set beneath a colossal Mallorn. Two stately Elves awaited them beside the tree, greeting them warmly but hurriedly. One led Oropher and Rodyn up a nearby ladder, leaving the others with the second Elf. He stepped forward and bowed, raising his hand in greeting.

"I am Caladhir, chamberlain to the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. You must be Arphain, Mereth, and Eva. I am to give you lodgings and food."

"Are our companions to see the Lady of the Wood?" asked Arphain, stepping forward.

"Yes."

"Then why must we wait?"

"Messengers from Rivendell take precedence over all else. You shall have your turn tomorrow," said Caladhir. The lieutenant paused a moment, a look of impatience on his face, but he nodded. "Very well, I will take you now."

The chamberlain led them up a series of nearby stairs, which wound endlessly around the trunk of another great Mallorn. In a great house high above the ground, they were given two small rooms, normally allotted to Elven messengers. The rooms were simply furnished, and prepared with clean white linen. Mereth and Eva changed quickly out of their riding clothes, then collapsed onto the beds, into dreamless sleep.

**December 13****th**

The day languished slowly while Eva waited hour by hour for summons. At eventide, a knock came at the door, and she was led away by an Elf maiden. They walked towards the southern hillside of Caras Galadhon, traversing narrow paths until they reached a small garden, completely encircled by trees. The maiden bowed and left her alone in the green space, to wander around curiously. High above, the trees lay open to the sky, the fiery stars peeping out one by one in the oncoming veil of night. In the center of the hollow, stood an elegantly carved pedestal, which held a silver basin and ewer. Eva circled it cautiously, but did not approach it, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Lady Eva." A voice suddenly broke the dark stillness, clear and crisp as bells ringing on a winter morning. Eva pivoted around, startled. "Do not be afraid."

A tall pale lady clad wholly in white emerged, her step light and graceful, and hair falling like a gold waterfall around her shoulders. She stopped before the pedestal and gazed steadily at the woman, her eyes keen and deep. Eva lowered her head courteously and went closer.

"Hello Lady Galadriel," she said unsteadily.

"Greetings Evelyn. Do you know why I brought you here?"

"Only partially."

"What passes here must not be heard by others. I was told of your predicament, quite unusual." She was silent a moment, her eyes thoughtful. "I do not wish for any of your knowledge. Even the smallest thing could turn the tide against the hope you represent, for the future."

"I do not know all that I once did," said Eva softly, a bit of fear creeping into her voice. "I'm not sure if I have wreaked havoc with my presence here."

Galadriel picked up the silver ewer and poured it into the large basin, motioning the woman forward. "Then we shall take a look. The mirror shows many things, past and present, or that have yet to pass."

The water's crystalline surface rippled then turned completely still, reflecting the light of the stars above. Eva crept closer and stood above the shining water. It suddenly turned grey, then a panoply of images began to surface in the reflection. It showed the scene of her parents' car crash, images of her journey, and childhood. The mirror cleared once more, alighting upon a green pasture from home. The dark haired boy from her dream was riding Basil her pony barebacked through the tall grass, followed by Morna carrying a brown haired woman, her neighbor Leora Langley.

The image was replaced, by a seemingly familiar wood filled with lissome trees, a stream flowing through it. A thin tall woman with long dark hair and wearing only a nightgown waded against the current, a bewildered look on her face. Eva gasped as she recognized the woman, but the mirror darkened again. It changed to another forest, dark and ominous. Boromir stood in its midst, his sword swinging mightily as he hewed down foul creatures. A series of arrows suddenly thudded into his chest, causing him to crash to the forest floor. Muffling a cry, Eva stumbled backwards from the pedestal, covering her eyes.

"Why do I keep seeing this?" she said, choking back tears. "I have to stop it, he can't die like this."

A thin pale hand touched her arm, causing her to uncover her eyes and look upward at the Lady Galadriel. "Your path may lead from his, or may entwine and change his. It is impossible to say."

"Are you saying I may see him again?"

"I do not know, but this I did see. There is a way back, and you must try to return. If you do not succeed, then your place was meant to be here. I must warn you it may be dangerous, even deadly. Do not take this matter lightly."

"Firien Wood—I saw it in mirror," said Eva, her voice distant. "But that woman…"

"Who was the lady in the mirror?"

"Elena. In Firien Wood."

"Then perhaps the door is still open to you," replied Galadriel, looking at her kindly.

.-.-.-.

The starlight cast a silvery sheen on the surroundings, eerie and beautiful at the same time. Eva wandered aimlessly on the garden path, still spinning from all that she'd seen and heard in Galadriel's presence. The information had her numb and overwhelmed.

_Why was this happening? What was she going to do?_

She was used to being alone, but it was the first time she was scared of it.

_Don't be silly, you have Mereth and Arphain. But only till Firien Wood. And once you're back, everyone there will still be against you... That child you keep seeing, who is he? Is he really mine?_

She tightly folded her arms, rubbing her shoulders pensively. She was not about to give up, despite what the mirror had shown her. There had to be some way to save Boromir and return home; she was going to find it.

**December 17****th**

The breeze was clear and cool, filled with faint memories of summer, despite the oncoming winter. It played high amongst the vaulted roof of golden Mallorn leaves, allowing beams of sunlight to escape through to the ground. The crystal rays shone onto two figures walking barefoot amongst the green grass. They spoke in soft voices, their laughter mingling like music, and ringing throughout the clearing. When they finally reached their destination, each bowed to the other, and Arphain kissed Mereth's hand before departing. With a pleased sigh, the elleth wandered to the great house amongst the treetops. She found Eva in their room, hunched over a piece of parchment.

The woman looked up wonderingly, and smiled. "Been walking again Mereth?"

"Yes."

"With Arphain?"

"Yes." The tips of Mereth's ears and her cheeks reddened, causing her to turn away. She cleared her throat. "And what are you up to milady?"

Carefully Eva rolled up the paper and set it aside. "Just writing a letter for Boromir, since we leave tomorrow."

"I shall miss Lórien," said Mereth quietly.

"Me too."

**December 18****th**

The map lying on the table was not mottled and marked clearly with unfaded ink, but the yellowed edges betrayed its age. Rodyn dragged a finger in the air across the parchment, following a small black line with his finger. One of the other Elves around the table rubbed his chin, looking at him intently.

"That is an old path, but it crosses the Limlaith and Onodló at its shallowest points—under the shadow of Fangorn."

The group was silent a moment, until Rodyn nodded. "I see no other way, this is the safest route whilst Arphain and I ride with the ladies." He glanced over at Eva and Mereth, who stood on the fringes of the room, watching them with reserved interest. "Lady Eva assures me she was well acquainted with several nobles of the Rohirrim during her passage through."

The other Elf raised his hand. "In company of Lord Boromir of Gondor."

Eva stepped forward, looking at him blankly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your welcome may not be as warm the second time. Rodyn, I advise you to keep away from human settlements until you assess their receptiveness."

"Depending on the weather, that might not be possible."

Their discussion continued on for another hour, until the Lórien Marchwarden and Caladhir had agreed on a travel plan with Rodyn. They walked together down to the front gates of Caras Galadhon with their belongings and maps, where their horses were waiting. With heavy spirits, they rode away from the heart of Lothlórien.

**Lothlórien, January 17****th**

The tightly bound paper unfurled in Boromir's hands, revealing a short letter written in thin curved handwriting.

My love,

I hope my letter finds you safe and well. I know not what perils you have faced, I only wish I had been there by your side to face them with you. Rest assured, my journey has been uneventful, and my escort has kept me safe. I hope the same is true for you. I long for you with each minute, each mile. I hope we meet someday again, though I try my hardest to return home.

I keep having the vision I told you about in Rivendell, and it worries me. In my heart I know you are safe as I write this. However, I cannot escape my fear. I know you are strong and brave, but please have the utmost caution. I care for your life more than my own. All I can say is beware of arrows and always keep your shield with you, especially in the woods. I know that is vague, but it is the only information I possess. If my journey fails, we will meet again in Minas Tirith.

_-Eva _

He clutched the paper to his chest and rolled over on the blanket, staring off into the distance.

* * *

**Story Notes (S/N): **River Limlaith is an Elvish name for the river "Limlight." The Entwash river is known as Onodló. Both feed into the Anduin.

**Author's Note (A/N): **I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, but I am trying not to linger so much on lesser aspects of Eva's journey. If I succeeded in further confusing you, don't worry. All shall be explained…eventually. (evil laugh). Happy Halloween!


	26. Ch 26: Gain

Chapter Twenty-Six: Gain

"_For everything you have missed, _

_you have gained something else,_

_and for everything you gain, _

_you lose something else."_

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

**December 21**

The Wold of Rohan ran on endlessly from the banks of the Limlight, turning into seas of gold and grey fields. The sun set early in the day, the last rays burning amber in a sea of violet. They made camp on the leeward side of a hill, the air cold but calm. Their journey over the past few days had been bland and uneventful, the blankness of the land weighing on Eva's heart. At night around the campfire, she allowed Mereth to fuss over her, feeling an emptiness settle into her stomach.

When served a warm plate of food, she mindlessly stirred it with her fork, staring unseeingly into the campfire. Mereth scooted to her side and nudged her encouragingly, but she sighed and handed the uneaten bowl to the elleth.

"You must eat,"

"I'm not hungry."

Mereth grunted and put the bowl aside, handing her a piece of lembas bread. Begrudgingly she accepted it and chewed on it little by little. Mereth leaned in closer, patting her on the arm.

"What is wrong?" she asked softly. "I did not bring it up before for fear of offending you, but I cannot help noticing how melancholy you are. I believe it is the cause of this flitting illness."

"I feel as if something has been ripped out of me, and replaced by a heavy burden," said Eva slowly. "I try to get past it, but it always returns."

"Speaking of which," said Mereth. She picked up another bowl and placed it in her hands. "You must drink this. It will make you feel better."

The concoction slid slowly down Eva's throat, the taste bitter and making her choke. "Thanks, I feel better already," she said sarcastically.

The elleth rolled her eyes and reclaimed the bowl. "At least you remain stubborn. You will need that for your condition to improve."

"I do appreciate all that you're doing," she said, putting a hand on Mereth's. "The longer I am here, the more I seem to lose."

"Milady, I will stay by your side until the end."

**December 24**

The small flurries clung to the strands of hair that flew out from underneath her hood. Eva dusted some of the snow off her cloak then tightened it around her, feeling a chill creep in. Her feet were still like ice, for they had crossed the Entwade that morning. The wild fields grew tamer on this side of the river, and they saw more horses roaming about free. Despite the frozen and snowy landscape, she was able to see well enough. A grey haze in the distance caught her attention. It looked like a large fire, too big for one chimney to contain.

She reined Sadron in and called ahead to Rodyn. "Let's head that way."

He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and said, "We cannot. There are human settlements that way."

"We are going that way right now," she said firmly. "That's an order."

The Elf seemed mildly shocked, but he lowered his head in obeisance. Eva turned Sadron into a gallop, but it took another ten minutes to reach their destination. They stopped their horses in horror, when they saw the first building. A great plume of smoke whirled upward against the snow, enveloping its surroundings. The skeleton of a house and barn were alit with gold flame, which ate away at the walls and roof.

"Where are the owners?" she said aloud.

Determined, she dismounted and started walking towards the house, but Mereth grabbed her from behind. "You cannot go in there!"

Arphain jumped off his horse and stood at their side. "But I can."

Before either could say anything, he sprinted towards the building, flinging the front door open. Meanwhile, Rodyn circled towards the barn, but returned quickly. The minutes passed slowly, every minute his return seeming unlikely. Mereth clung to Eva fearfully, watching the house for any signs. Finally, a singed figure emerged from the building, carrying a large burden over his shoulder. He stumbled towards them, then collapsed onto his knees, panting. In his arms was a tall blonde man, unconscious and somewhat burned from the flames. Rodyn took the man from Arphain and laid him on his back upon the ground.

He examined the man closely, then shook his head. "He isn't breathing."

"Well of course not, he needs CPR," said Eva. The Elf stared at her blankly. "Oh pft let me try."

She began pushing on the man's abdomen, and breathing into his mouth. An acrid taste filled her mouth, but she ignored it. This was reminding her too much of the day she found her Aunt unconscious in the field, and was unable to revive her. _I can't let this man die._

"Milady, what're you doing?"

"Forcing air into his lungs."

"I see, but I don't believe it will—"

There was a heaving rush of air as the man's chest suddenly rose and fell, followed by a gagging sound. His eyes fluttered open, and his eyes darted around in alarm.

"Shh, you're safe," Eva said softly.

The man strainedly nodded, then passed out once more.

They made camp under an outlying woodshed, far away from the reaches of the dying inferno. They were somewhat protected from the snow by the shoddy roof and campfire, which burned merrily in the midst of the storm. Arphain and Mereth worked ceaselessly over the unconscious man for an hour, cleaning his burns, changing his clothes, and washing away dirt. Most of the clothes they pulled off him were ragged and torn, but belted around the man's waist was a long sword, devoid of ornaments or decoration. Eva carefully cleaned the sword as Boromir and Arphain had taught her, then surrendered it for hiding to Rodyn. They could not yet trust this man with a weapon.

It was near sunset when the snow began to recede and the man finally awoke. He groaned and struggled to sit up, with Mereth's help. Curiously his brown eyes roved over the group and himself, and he fiddled with the finely sewn sleeves of the Elven tunic he now wore. He was ordinary looking, but ruggedly built like Boromir, though on a lesser scale. He lowered his head thankfully to them, and wonderingly touched a bandage on his arm.

"There is no pain. How can this be?"

"They have healed you well," said Rodyn, gesturing to the other Elves.

"You have my deepest gratitude," he said to them. "As I was laying there in the fire, feeling the life go out of me…I knew I was dying." He turned his head and looked at Eva. "But then I felt air rush into me, and your face."

"You weren't breathing when we pulled out of the house," she said, grimacing at the thought. "I had to do something called CPR to revive you."

"I was returning home from the East Emnet, when I saw the house on fire. I rushed in and tried to save my sister's life, but she was already dead." He sighed, his eyes deep and sad. "It was foolish of me, but she was all that remained of my family."

Mereth shook her head. "It was not foolish. If I lost my brother, I would not know what to do."

He gave her a small smile, then stiffly rose to his feet, despite the Elves' protest. He knelt in front of a bewildered Eva, and kissed her hand. "Fair lady, what is your name?"

"Eva," she said slowly.

"Lady Eva, I am Nahald son of Oswin. I swear my fealty and service to, long as you have need of it. Do you accept?"

Her eyes darted to the Elves, and Arphain gave her a small nod. She grasped Nahald's hand tightly, helping him sit down once more. "Yes."

As she bent over, he caught sight of the ring around her neck. "Gracious are the Dúnedain milady."

She clasped it to her chest, a minor of sting of guilt hitting her. Very few could be trusted with her secret. "Indeed."

Glancing at the others, he smirked. "But fairer folk I have never seen, only heard of in stories. Tales spring in life in the grass, for I never thought to meet Elves in my lifetime, especially in Rohan."

Rodyn looked at him sternly. "Master Nahald, if you value what we have done for you and truly abide by your oath; you will reveal that fact to none."

"On my honor, none shall hear it pass from my lips."

**December 25**

The stars were cold against the black night, circling endlessly high in the sky above, as Eva watched. She scuffed the snow powdered ground with a boot, and began walking further from the camp. She stopped outside the wreckage of the house, staring at it forlornly. She imagined a warm hearth of her own, in the arms of a loving man while children played on the floor. The image faded as she heard footsteps behind her, and found Nahald at her side.

"I don't think you should be up," she said gently.

The man shrugged sheepishly. "I have been on my back all day as instructed." He put a hand on her shoulder. "But neither should you, with this illness that plagues you."

"I'm not sure it's that," she said quietly, folding her arms. "Today is Christmas in my homeland. It is a very special holiday we celebrate with family, but I have none left."

"As do I," he said. "I understand completely, but I still implore you to rest more. Among my people, I am a kind of healer. I spoke with Mereth about your ongoing illness."

"And what do you suggest?" she asked.

"Hard as it may be, let go of your sorrow. For it will ravage your soul, body, and that of your unborn child."

The words of truth struck Eva in the heart, and she gazed at him, stunned. She had suspected…but how could it be true? God, if she was, was she doing the right thing? Eva broke away from Nahald, running troubledly through the snow. She flew into the midst of camp, causing all three Elves to jump to their feet, the soldiers drawing their weapons.

"What is it?" Rodyn asked worriedly.

Eva took Mereth by the arm. "That herb you gave me in Rivendell, Galascen, it should've worked right?"

Mereth nodded quickly. "Of course, it does not fail when used properly. And I definitely prepared it correctly."

"For what?" asked Arphain, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Against begetting," she answered nonchalantly.

The Elf froze, staring at Eva and Mereth. "Ye gods!" he exclaimed. "Mereth you fool, _Galashên _not Galascen is used for that!"

The elleth's eyes went wide and she turned a deep shade of pink.

The soldier gazed at Eva, who felt her heart sinking. "You had need of this?"

"Yes," she said faintly.

Nahald emerged on the edge of the group, having overheard the conversation. Carefully, he helped Eva sit on the ground.

"Yes, Lady Eva is with child."

.-.-.-.

The following day was warmer and sunny, soon melting away the remnants of snow. The light felt good and wholesome upon their backs, and Eva's heart felt light as air. She rode with one arm protectively against her belly, as if to keep the knowledge all to her self. At first she'd felt almost helpless, but as time passed, she realized how wonderful it was.

_Is this the dark haired child I saw? Is this __**the**__ sign I will return home?_

She felt somewhat disappointed Boromir would not hear of this new. She had to find some way of telling him—

"Eva. Mereth," called Rodyn.

He pointed across the frozen meadows to a far off gathering, indiscernible against the bright sunlight. A pang of fear hovered in Eva's chest, as she surveyed the sight.

"They fly a green banner with a white horse," shouted Arphain.

"They are Rohirrim," she yelled back. "No need to worry."

"We shall see," said Mereth. She raised her hood, carefully tucking her hair over her pointed ears.

The group in the distance seemed to move faster as it caught sight of their traveling party. Within a short period of time, a large band of soldiers cut across their path and drew them to a halt. As Eva instructed, the Elves did not draw their weapons or remove their hoods. A tall man helmed man holding a large sword rode forward.

"What business have you in this land?" He motioned to Nahald, who sat behind Arphain on his horse.

"Hwæt eart þu?" Rohirrim?"

"Gea, hlaford min."

"Are you their friend or prisoner?" the soldier asked sharply.

"Friend. They rescued me from certain death when my home burned down."

"Were you victim of an Orc raid?"

"Gea. I beg leave sir, that you should speak with my lady instead," he said, bowing his head politely. He turned his head in Eva's direction.

"You serve these strangers?"

"Yes."

Eva urged Sadron forward and lowered her hood. She brought out a piece of parchment and handed it to the soldier. He read it thoroughly and handed it back to her. He removed his helm and smiled. It was Théodred.

"Ic grete þe Evelyn. I will let you pass, since that very paper was signed by my hand." She laughed and he took her hand, kissing it lightly. "It is good to see you well. Yea, we feared the worst when your horse returned riderless."

"Hæstapa," Eva said in disbelief. "We thought we lost her for good at the crossing of Tharbad."

"Rohirrim horses are hardy creatures," said Théodred, beaming. He leaned it closer and lowered his voice. "Where is Lord Boromir? Do not tell me he was lost?"

"I cannot go into detail," she said, furtively glimpsing at the surrounding soldiers. "Yet I can say he is safe and we reached our destination."

Théodred examined their horses and her companions, then winked. "I see you have indeed met the folk of Rivendell." He straightened up in the saddle. "I invite your party Lady Eva to Edoras, with my hospitality."

Rodyn bristled and said roughly, "We cannot, it is out of our way."

"Not by much," interjected Eva.

The Elf sighed and was silent a moment. "Very well."

"Good," said Théodred expectantly. He put his helm on again and signaled his escort. They parted and brought the Elven party into its midst, then rode on southward.

**December 28**

The high walls of Edoras loomed ahead, piercing the dusky sky above. Their group raised the green and white banner, causing the front gates of the city to swing open. The soldiers split off at various points throughout Edoras, until Théodred and Eva's group rode up alone to Meduseld. They were given rooms in the back half of the great hall, for privacy and away from prying eyes.

At nightfall, they were led from their rooms to a small chamber, set with long dining tables, and filled with a huge assortment of food. The Elves took a table to themselves, allowing Théodred and Eva to sit alone. She was served meat, cheese, and dried fruit, but declined when offered wine.

Théodred raised an eyebrow as she turned the servant away and asked for water. "It is the very best in Rohan, straight from the orchards of Gondor."

"I'm sure it's fine, but I cannot have it," said Eva, taking a forkful of food.

He stared at her a moment, swirling his wine, then smiled. "You are carrying Lord Boromir's child?"

She choked and looked at him, her eyes watering. "Yes, and I am taking every precaution."

Théodred raised his goblet high in the air and bellowed to the others, "A toast, to new beginnings and a future Steward of Gondor in Lady Evelyn's belly."

Eva flushed red as the Elves raised their cups in unison. "Thank you," she murmured.

"What's wrong?"

"Circumstances are such that nothing is for sure," she said softly.

Théodred motioned to the ring dangling from her neck. "That is a sign of betrothal. Are things otherwise?"

She turned redder and fumbled with her fork. "No we're not. Whether or not that happens is up in the air."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you then." Théodred placed a hand encouragingly on her shoulder. "I have no doubt it will, and that Lord Boromir will make a fine father. Just do not tell him _I _said so."

"When are _you _getting married?" she asked, laughing loudly.

"In a few weeks," said Théodred. "I think you know my bride quite well, as she mentioned you several times—Cynuise Fulur."

"I thought she was already married," she said, surprised.

"Nay, her husband passed away at the end of summer."

"That's sad, but my congratulations."

"We must all pay a price for happiness," he replied, almost inaudibly.

**December 29**

The faint sound of neighs echoed across the courtyard, and grew as they walked towards the paddocks. They entered the Rohirrim stable, a well decorated stone building with high vaulting ceilings and long rows of stalls. Théodred led Arphain and Eva halfway through the structure, until they were standing near the Elves' horses. At the sound of their voices, several horses stuck their heads over their doors, including a chestnut mare and a black gelding.

"Hæstapa and Nénar!" exclaimed Eva.

Fondly, she stroked the mare's neck and allowed her to nose through her pockets, looking for treats. The gelding pricked his ears forward and joined in the search, pushing Hæstapa's head out of the way.

"We finally caught him running loose near Aldburg with a band of our horses," said Théodred. "I return both to your keeping."

She examined Hæstapa closely, noticing the good condition she was in, and the slight bulge at her side.

"She's in-foal," she said, in surprise.

"Yes, we estimate she should deliver in the summer."

"That makes two of us," she whispered to the horse.

She laughed as the mare nibbled wonderingly at her hair and shoulder. It felt as if things were finally slipping into place.

* * *

**S/N: **Translations: Rohirric:

"Hwæt eart þu?" Rohirrim?" (Who are you? Rohirrim?)

"Gea, hlaford min." (Yes, my lord.)

"Ic grete þe." (I greet thee.)

**A/N: **Please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes. I only ran a quick edit on this, as I wanted to post it sooner rather than later. Thanks!


	27. Ch 27: Of Earth and Water

Chapter Twenty-seven: Of Earth and Water

"_I am the daughter of Earth and Water, _

_And the nursling of the Sky; _

_I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; _

_I change, but I cannot die. _

_For after the rain when with never a stain _

_The pavilion of Heaven is bare, _

_And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams _

_Build up the blue dome of air, _

_I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, _

_And out of the caverns of rain, _

_Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, _

_I arise and unbuild it again." _

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

**January 5, 3019**

Upon the border of Gondor, Eva's party crossed into Firien Wood, which had changed little in the months since she'd been there. The tangles of trees thinned as they turned off the main road, and followed a path slightly southward. Under the shadows of high hills nigh the Mering Stream, they came to Brêgobel. Its high walls were built of earth and stone and heavily fortified, covering a large swath of cleared forestland. After a long conversation, the guards refused to let them enter, until Eva showed them Boromir's ring. Reluctantly, the soldiers opened the front gates, watching them suspiciously as they rode in. They came upon an inn near the center of town, but were refused board, the owner claiming they were full. The front doors of the inn shut soundly behind them and were barred, leaving the group standing alone in the middle of the road.

"Well that was a waste of time," muttered Rodyn. "What is wrong with these people?"

"They're scared. They grew up in the shadow of the mountains, fearing the unknown and strangers. It will not be easy to find someone who will trust us," said Nahald warningly.

"We're going to be sleeping in the street if we don't find somewhere to go," said Eva, fidgeting with Hæstapa's reins.

They mounted their horses and continued through center of town, searching for accommodations. Night had fallen when they reached the outermost wall of Brêgobel, the town giving way to small farms. They tried several of the houses and were chased from one property by a man wielding an axe.

"I do not think we will find welcome in any of these places," Arphain admitted aloud.

They pulled the horses to the side of the road and were beginning to unpack, when a lone figure rode by. He stopped his horse before the group huddled on the ground, and dismounted, saluting the Elves as they stood up warily. He was of medium height and brown hair, with a pleasant but average face.

"Hail fair strangers."

Tenuously, Rodyn removed his hand from his sword sheath and raised it. "Well met. You are the first to greet us so, good sir."

"Few have passed the walls of our town in the past year. The shadow lengthens on all our hearts," said the newcomer, nodding. "Do you have need of board? Women should not be kept out in the cold."

"Yes, in fact one of them is with child. She should have a warm bed and good food after the long journey we have endured."

The man raised his eyebrows. "I shall board you in my own house then. I am Haldan Argildin, Keeper of the Beacon of Halifirien. I am ashamed the men of my town have treated you so."

"I am Rodyn," said the Elf. He gestured to each of his companions in turn, naming them. "This is Arphain, Mereth, Nahald, and Eva."

"Come with me."

They followed Haldan towards the outer reaches of Brêgobel, where the small farms sat and the inner town walls melded into the foothills of the White Mountains. They stopped in front of an ancient stone house, larger and grander than its surroundings. Small beams of candlelight flickered through the windows, welcoming them merrily into Haldan's home. Their horses were taken to the stable by a lanky boy similar in build and appearance to his father. They entered the farmhouse through a long wood paneled corridor, richly carved and decorated. They were greeted in the dining hall by Haldan's wife Aedre, a blonde woman of great beauty. She roughly ordered food to be brought to them and did not look kindly on the strangers in her home. Their host joined them at the table, ignoring his wife's manners.

"You are welcome to stay long as you need," he said to the group.

"You will be compensated justly," said Arphain, before downing half his soup.

"There is no need—"

"I insist," replied Eva. She placed a small pile of coins on the table, which consisted of silver and gold.

Aedre's eyes widened and she quickly swept up the money, her entire demeanor changed. "Is there anything else you need while I'm here? I'm going to put the children to sleep."

"No, thank you m'dear," said Haldan, kissing her on the forehead.

Gathering her skirts, she swept out of the room, leaving them alone. "Please excuse my wife. Though she was born in Rohan, she is just as voracious as the townspeople."

"I am Rohirrim myself," piped Nahald, chewing thoughtfully on his food.

"Really?" Haldan asked curiously. "Surely you are not all from Rohan?"

Eva placed her cup down and cleared her throat. "No. The rest of us are from Eriador. I am going to Minas Tirith to join my betrothed."

"He must be a hard lord to please, to have searched so far. Do I know of him?"

Politely she smiled and shook her head, changing the topic.

**January 8**

The first tendrils of light spread over the hillside, tingeing the sky violet. In the Argildin stable, Eva roused Hæstapa from sleep and readied her tack. Quietly she led the horse through the streets of Brêgobel, savoring her freedom, though a pang of anxiety burrowed in the back of her mind. This was the first day she had managed to successfully sneak out without an escort. Arphain and Nahald had insisted on accompanying her the previous two days she rode out. The guards groggily opened the gates to let her through. She followed the path until she was on the main road, on the fringes of Firien Wood. For several hours she rode on, then turned off-road, following the map she had filched from Rodyn. Near the center of the forest, she found Mering Stream. Its waters were slowed by the cold weather, making it seem less daunting.

It led her into the depths of the wood, until she found a familiar spot. A large tree with a twisted trunk and a large boulder near the waterside marked the place she had first come to Middle-earth. Her heartbeat grew faster and pounded in her ears as she dismounted her horse, and approached the stream carefully. Its waters gurgled and shone brightly in the morning sun, beckoning to her eerily. She stepped closer, watching as her reflection wavered on its surface. A second later, it was replaced by a similar countenance, with a gaunt face and green eyes. It stared back at her quizzically, causing Eva to step back in fear. She slipped and fell onto the cold ground, her legs dropping into the water. The chill clawed at her body like icy hands, creeping up her body and numbing her completely. She shuddered as it reached her head, and darkness encompassed her.

_The pounding of hooves echoed in her ears and against the tall houses lining the broad stone road. _

She cantered the horse to a halt in front of a large Victorian home, which stood higher than the others. Cautiously she slid from the animal's back and lowered a large bundle from the saddle. She unwrapped the blanket, and wiped the face of the child in its folds.

"Keith sweetie, you have to walk now," she said softly.

Weakly the boy clung to her ragged dress, learning on her for support. "I will try mother."

With her help, they unsteadily mounted the narrow porch stairs and knocked on the front door. A tired looking woman opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Mistress Hollinger, what brings you here at this hour?"

"Important business, fetch my sister immediately. And never call me that again if you wish to keep your tongue," she hissed.

The woman ushered them into the parlor then hurriedly bumbled up the main staircase. Five minutes later, a blonde woman wandered into the parlor, wearing a long robe and her hair undone around her shoulders. She yawned and placed her hands on her hips as she saw the pallid boy and haggard woman on her couch.

"Elena!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here and with your boy no less? He is not fit for some harebrained ride through the countryside at night, even during the summer."

"Aileen, I came here seeking help."

Her sister sat down and looked at her keenly, studying them outwardly. "Why are you dressed so? And you're so thin!"

"There is much you refused to see," the woman said sadly. "This is the condition Sean keeps me in when others are no around." She leaned forwardly, speaking hushedly. "I am the most wretched woman alive. He keeps me locked in my room whilst he traipses about with his harlot, Martha Marshall. He locks my darling boy away from me to bend me to his will—"

"You speak nonsense," said Aileen, snorting.

"I will spill my own blood before he gets Creek Halls!"

"That is enough!" Aileen exclaimed. "Why do you come here? Why do you spout the fantasies of a madwoman? Sean Hollinger treats you like a queen."

Her sister's eyes glittered coldly like emeralds. "I came here for you to take Keith. His health has declined and he needs special care, since Sean no longer allows me to care for him."

"I cannot," said Aileen simply. "We do not have the time or space for another child, despite what you may think. He is better off at home."

"He is worse off! Sean will kill me after this; my boy will be kept from me forever. He will die without my care!"

"Elena, stop it," interrupted Aileen. "I will wake Patrick up, and he will ride home with you. I will inform your husband of what transpired here, and perhaps he can get you some help."

Her heart cracked further with her sisters words. She had been betrayed once more by her very own blood. Her sister never once helped her, or looked after other people's needs. There was only one thing left for her to do, and she would complete her task, ensuring her son's inheritance.

"Sister," she said icily. She stood up straight, her fists clenched tightly as she locked eyes with her sibling. "Then this I say to you. After the time of my death, your line will be cursed. Unless they make a sacrifice that you were unwilling to, they will all be lost. Every one of your descendants will perish into unhappiness, because you would not help a mother in despair. Only those who give up their lives and their child as I have done, will break it. They will find true happiness. So be this, for eternity."

She sat back onto the couch and brought her son into her arms, feeling his cold thin body against hers. Her sister remained still, watching the woman oddly, as a chill crept up her spine.

_The white parlor faded from her vision, and was replaced by the swirling of water. _Her hands cut through it rapidly, as she awakened to a sense of desperation. She kicked against the tide and broke to the surface, gasping loudly as air rushed into her lungs. The cold struck her forcefully, and she crawled weakly from the stream. Hæstapa came to her side and nibbled at her clothes wonderingly, and nudged her hand with her soft nose. Eva commanded the horse onto her side, and clawed for the reins. She tumbled into the saddle and urged the mare up with the faint click of her tongue. She held on desperately, urging the horse into a run as she held on for dear life.

It seemed forever until she reached the walls of Brêgobel, the wind cutting through her wet clothes and chilling her. The soldiers let her through without question, and she made it to the front pasture of Giltham. The Argildin's son Orchalion came running from the stable, as she dismounted from the horse, finally collapsing.

.-.-.-.

She was mired in inky blackness, her entire body and mind under a crushing weight. Why was she there? How could she escape? She wandered through the darkness, until she suddenly heard a faint calling of her name. Unsure, she struggled towards her, night starting to fall away…

"Lady Eva."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she found a blank whiteness before her eyes. She blinked hard and turned her neck, attempting to sit up. Nahald appeared above her, gently pushing her back onto the bed

"Whoa. You are not fit to get up yet," he said.

"How'd I get here?" she said, feeling the warm white sheets underneath her.

There was a faint thud across the room and the rush of footsteps, Mereth appearing next to him.

"You rode here soaking wet and collapsed in the front pasture. You have been asleep for two days with a fever," said Mereth, frowning. "Where did you go? Why was someone not with you?"

Nahald put his hand on the elleth's shoulder, easing her away. "There shall be time for questions later. Fetch her some soup."

Eva attempted to sit-up again, but fell weakly backwards onto the pillows. She lay on her side, soaking in the softness of the bed.

_The stream…it was the last thing she could remember. Elena. She did something to our family, her own sister. What torture must've she been through, to have her own family turn their backs on her._ _She went to the stream! Why was she still in Middle-Earth? _

There was something left she had to do, but_ what?_

_She'd abandoned Boromir for this folly, this stupid idea that she could pretend nothing had happened these past few months._ _The child, she'd seen him at Creek Halls! What did it mean?_

Miserably she buried her face into the pillow, her head spinning.

_All these wrong decisions, so many miles. I can make it right. _

She was going to Minas Tirith.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay finally you guys have an explanation! I will clarify this for you. Elena was married to a soldier named William Lock, who died in World War I. Their son was born after he left, and his name was Keith. He was a very sick little boy, who needed a lot of care. Elena fell in love with Sean Hollinger, but he only married her for her money. Shortly afterwards, he began hounding her for the deed to Creek halls. When she would not give it to him, or her money, he began severely mistreating her. Then Sean began having an affair with his cousin Martha Marshall. Elena tried to run and give her son to her sister Aileen Lynch, but was denied help. (This wasn't the first time her sister had refused to help her.) Therefore a curse was put on their family and the land when she died. The Whits are descended from Martha and Sean's daughter Miriam. Elena and Sean had a son Samuel, but that son was also mistreated, though to a lesser degree. Aileen Lynch was Eva's great-grandmother. Therefore, the curse has been passed on, and as a result, Eva is in Middle-earth. Will she break the curse? Stay tuned to find out.


	28. Ch 28: The Captain

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Captain

_"I had rather have a plain, russet-coated Captain,_

_that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows,_

_than that which you call a Gentle-man and is nothing else."_

_-Oliver Cromwell_

**January 22**

Mereth circled the bedroom after Eva, picking up her nightgown and robe as the woman dressed. She huffed noisily, placing the garments on a chair and helping lace Eva's dress.

"I think this is a ludicrous idea," said Mereth.

"I've been cooped up in this house for two weeks—"

"With a terrible sickness," interrupted the elleth. "Now you want to go riding again, to catch an even more dreadful illness."

"No need to worry, you're coming with me this time."

"Splendid," said Mereth with a hint of sarcasm.

They took the horses and rode out of the town, into the heart of Firien Wood. They followed the Mering stream, but it took a good while before they found the spot Eva had visited weeks before. Unwillingly Mereth dismounted Sadron and meandered along the shore after Eva. Beside the ancient twisted tree, they stopped and watched the water. Mereth locked firmly onto the woman's sleeve, holding her back.

"How do you know the same thing will not happen again?"

"I don't," said Eva. "But I need to know."

She released herself from the elleth's grasp and approached the shore. She dipped the tip of her boot into the water and waited. For two hours they waited, until at least Mereth urged them home.

.**January 30**

The smell of roasted meat and vegetables pervaded the dining room as Aedre placed a series of platters on the table and departed. Arphain passed the dish to Rodyn, and nodded towards the women.

"You two were out I see."

"Yes."

"Mering again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, we went to one of the surrounding villages fro a change."

"I'm giving up on returning now," said Eva, picking at her food. "I am thinking of continuing onto Minas Tirith."

"You two have grown independent of our use," said Rodyn. "I am pleased with this."

"Any reason why?"

He placed his fork on the table and looked at her. "Arphain and I have decided it is time for us to take our leave. We are assured now you are in the confines of Gondor, you will be safe. Nahald has volunteered to continue in your service, and I am confident he will watch over you diligently."

"I am sorry. We greatly enjoyed your company," Mereth said softly, her eyes on Arphain.

"I trust you will find what you are looking for. It was a joy to be a companion to this group."

.-.-.-.

Eva, Nahald, and Mereth set out along the East-West road, riding only Hæstapa and Nénar. They carried a heavy burden in addition to their passengers, as the Argildin family had insisted on giving the travelers plenty of supplies. The road stretched on almost endlessly under the shadow of the White Mountains. They traversed it quickly and quietly, taking few breaks and rarely spending the night in town, though the settlements grew thicker the farther east they went. The land grew hillier around the arm of the mountains, especially through the Grey Wood. On the last day of their journey, vast fields of the Pelennor spread out before them, a great wall surrounding its outer edges. They passed unnoticed through the outposts, drawing little attention with their plain clothes and heads hooded against the wind.

Eva was in continual awe at the sights before them, which outstripped any of the cities she had seen in Middle-earth. The white walls of Minas Tirith gleamed like pearl in the daylight, and bright banners snapped atop its great towers. The ache for Boromir grew in her chest as they passed its main gate. The stories he had told of its magnificence and beauty had done it little justice. Great amounts of people milled along its wide paved streets, but Eva noticed many empty buildings and homes. Not many people lived here as they did in the days of old.

Despite Mereth's insistence they were perfectly safe in the city, Eva forced their group to take board on the fourth level of Minas Tirith. The Archer's Inn was large and quiet, with a great courtyard, and owned by the family of an old soldier. They were given two separate rooms on the second floor, with windows that looked northward. Their money reserves were high, and they went to sleep on comfortable furniture and fresh linen.

**February 12**

The edges of Eva's cloak billowed in the wind, allowing some of the chilly air to sweep in. She clutched it tighter and tucked her hands in the cloth, warming them slightly. Her footsteps were soundless on the passageway up to the uppermost level of the city. The grand guards of the gate barely paid her a glance; they were lost in their own thoughts on this bleak winter day. Despite the wind, a drop of sweat trickled across her brow. The climb to the seventh level of Minas Tirith was long, and she still weakened from the weeks spent in bed.

Her eyes widened as she stood upon the crest of the stairs that opened onto a white-paved court. A lengthy hall of white stone stood beside a mighty tower, three hundred feet high. Before the buildings was spread a green swath of grass, at the center of which lay a large fountain sparkling in the faint sun, and a tall drooping tree with broken branches. Her heart twinged at the forlorn sight, and she lowered her head respectfully. She wandered aside the fountain, watching the water and staring at the massive hall before her. A shiver of indecision ran through her mind, and she sighed worriedly.

_What was she doing up here? Was she going to march straight into the King's Hall and demand to talk to the Steward? Would they think she was crazy? They'd probably interrogate her—and they'd want to know everything. That'd be treading on dangerous ground…_

Reactively she pulled the hood farther over her head and turned from the white court. She descended back through the gate, slipping through inconspicuously. As she started on the road away from the entrance, she passed by a tall dark haired man. She glanced at him nonchalantly, then stopped in her tracks.

"Boromir?" the words slipped from her mouth.

The man froze in his tracks and pivoted in her direction. The illusion faded from her mind instantly. The eyes and face were very similar in appearance, but this man was obviously not Boromir.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I was mistaken."

She attempted to move away, but the man stepped into her path with ease. "Please tell me," he said softly. "Do you know Captain-General Boromir?"

His grey eyes keenly searched hers, as if hungry for information. "Faramir?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Have we met before?" he said unsurely.

"No, but I do know your brother." Hesitantly she loosened her cloak and carefully pulled the chain from underneath her neckline, handing it to him.

Faramir's eyes widened in surprise, and he clutched the ring tightly. "Please, follow me. We need to talk."

He led her back towards the seventh gate, despite her internal protests she followed. They entered the King's Hall, a magnificent building of stone. She gaped at the sight of its interior, its splendor dwarfing anything she had thus seen, even Meduseld. They walked along several long passageways and up a flight of stairs, coming to stop in a spacious library. Hundreds of books and scrolls lined the walls, too innumerable to count. He pulled out a chair for her at a long table, then sat across and looked at her intently.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Why do you bear my brother's ring?"

"My name is Eva. I met your brother early in his travels, when I was in dire straits. He took pity on me and brought me along. We parted in Rivendell, where he gave me this ring for safe passage back to Gondor."

"But you are not of our people?"

"No, I am from Eriador," she said, trying to make herself convincing.

"I am glad to hear he made it safely," he said. A look of relief crossed his face, but it was still full of worry. "Did he find the answers he sought?"

She swallowed hard, trying to keep the truth from spilling out. "I was not privy to that information, but I believe that he did."

"Tell me, if he was successful, why did he not return home with you?"

"I cannot say," she said, feeling his gaze intensify. _He knows I'm lying…_ "Only that he was pursuing other matters that arose as a result of his going there. He remained behind in Rivendell when I went forth."

"If you were under his protection, why did you separate?"

"So that I could take care of my own matters. Your brother enabled me to do this, and I am grateful," she said softly.

"My brother is a noble man indeed," he said, folding his hands together. His grey eyes glinted like steel as he examined her closely. "I am still surprised he let go such a precious belonging. Even I have rarely held it until now. He must have held you in the highest regard." He fixated on her, his eyes questioning. "I only ask out of curiosity, but were you involved intimately with him?"

Eva repeatedly crossed her legs anxiously, and pressed her lips together tightly. "Do not think me a harlot. I love your brother more than I have anyone else in my lifetime."

"Are you engaged to him? Surely this means—"

"No," she said quickly.

Faramir turned the ring over carefully in his hands, studying it. "If I may be frank, I believe that is his intention. I cannot fathom why he did not do it yet, but he is finicky in such matters. He may have wanted the approval of our father. You must meet him. He is a stern proud man, but almost always accepting of those Boromir loves best."

Eva shook her head. "No, I will wait until Boromir returns. Please do not speak of me to others until he has come. It's important."

The man raised an eyebrow, but conceded. "Very well."

.-.-.-.

The smell of fresh food permeated the air and filled the street way, along with the clamor of people. Mereth and Eva wandered along the stalls, taking in the sights and observing the people. Nahald walked close behind, not interested in their shopping, but keeping a close eye on them. Eventually they found their way in front of a shop, which sold textiles and clothing. Mereth pulled Eva inside, urging that they needed certain items. There were all kinds of sorted cloth and trinkets in the shop, laid out neatly on tables. Eva wandered around curiously, but began to feel slightly dizzy and the taste of that morning's breakfast. The elleth grabbed several things and placed them in a basket, humming as she examined material.

"Mereth."

"Hm?"

"What're we doing in here?"

"Shopping for your child of course. It can't come into the world naked."

Eva laughed troubledly, a hand on her stomach. "Ergh, I shouldn't have had those eggs this morning."

Mereth dropped the linen she was looking at, and put her arm around her. "Let's pay and get you home."

Back at the Archer's Inn, Eva laid down on the bed she shared with Mereth. Nahald discreetly examined her and gave her a warm drink which took away the urge to throw up. Eva sidled upwards into her pillows, pulling the hem of her nightgown past her belly.

Nahald sat at her bedside, the chair slightly creaking as he leaned forward. "It's nothing to worry about, just general morning sickness. However there is one thing—"

"What?" blurted Eva, holding her stomach protectively.

"You may be carrying more than one child."

The news hit Eva like a brick in the face, and her heart plummeted. _Possibly two children…and Boromir doesn't even know. _Unable to control herself, she began to weep.

**February 30  
**

The faint rays of morning light splayed into the room, as it hit the panes of the window. Eva sighed as she watched the tree outside sway slightly in the wind, its branches scratching at the inn.

"Breath in," said Mereth.

Eva sucked in more air, but gasped as the laces of her dress came together. "Too tight!"

"Bah!"

Mereth loosed the dress and helped her step out of it, her fingers striped red. She turned for the armoire, pulling out a looser green dress.

"Try this for now." Eva donned the garment and sucked her breath in again, as Mereth successfully tied off the laces.

"Your belly is outgrowing all of your clothes," the elleth said, smirking.

Self-consciously Eva placed her hands over her abdomen. They still weren't sure of there was more than one child in there, but she hardly cared, long as the child was healthy. Suddenly the bedroom door opened and Nahald entered. His face was flushed and he was breathing hard, like he'd been running.

"Knock next time," said Mereth, shaking her finger.

"What is it?" asked Eva, studying his grim expression.

He leaned against the wall a moment, then dutifully walked to her side. "I have some important news. She gazed at him expectantly, but he motioned for her to sit down. "Sit, you'll need to"

Mereth plopped beside her on the coverlet, drawing her knees up to her chin. "Tell us then."

Nahald's brown eyes glinted darkly as he stood before them. He shifted uncomfortably, and folded his hands behind his back.

"There are rumors a great force is amassing in the East…for an invasion of Gondor. They are to start evacuating women and children to the Southern fiefs. I suggest if this happens, we go along."

"Ludicrous," said Eva instantly. "In the case of a battle, Boromir would come here. I intend to be waiting."

"Milady," he said, using a term he rarely called her. "I have further news—Captain General Boromir's horn was found on the shore of Anduin, cloven in two. Others have brought forth evidence as well. I'm afraid…he's dead."

* * *

**A/N: ** WAIT! Don't kill me yet. Boromir may or may not be dead! (evil grin) You REALLY REALLY want to finish this story. yes yes.


	29. Ch 29: Shadows of Fate

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Shadows of Fate

"_The glories of our blood and state_

_Are shadows, not substantial things;_

_There is no armour against fate;_

_Death lays his icy hands on kings."_

_-James Shirley_

"_More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd_

_To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days,_

_On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues."_

_-John Milton_

Veils of fog lifted as the sun grew higher in the sky, turning the walls of Minas Tirith from grey to white. Nahald wandered off the street into the Archer's Inn and into the parlour, where he found Mereth sitting by the fire, sewing. He slung his cloak on a chair nearby and sat across from her. The elleth placed her sewing on her lap and sighed.

"At least one of us is out and about," she said.

"She hasn't come out today either?" asked Nahald, his brow furrowing worriedly.

"She only lets me in to draw the bath and fetch her food. She is silent the whole time."

"It is possible we will be forced to leave. The last wains of evacuees are preparing to depart within two days. I was already questioned about my fighting skills, and had to promise my skills as a healer if I am to remain," he said, twiddling his fingers. "I do not see why we wait here if Lord Boromir has fallen. He would want her safe—away from the coming scourge."

"There will be no moving of a woman in grief. I have tried countless times to convince her, but she will not listen. She wants to have the child in Minas Tirith, with his kin nearby."

"If there will be a Minas Tirith left standing by then," said Nahald quietly.

The parlour door creaked open slightly, as the innkeeper stuck his head into the room. "Excuse me, but you wished to be notified if the lady upstairs left her room? She has departed from the inn."

Nahald leapt from his chair, nearly banging the innkeeper against the wall.

Throughout the levels of the city, the flurry of activity grew as the day waxed. Provisions and men were marched along the roads, in preparation for the oncoming battle. Upon the uppermost reaches of the city, the Citadel was calm. The usual men were at their posts, and Eva wandered freely across the white court. She mustered all of her wit and guts, and walked to the high Tower of Ecthelion. The cloak fell back onto her shoulders as she strode silently up to a contingent of men guarding its main door. She fixed her hardened gaze on a man who wore a black gambeson with a white tree.

"Sir, I have sought all the outposts in the city. Please tell me where I can find the Captain Faramir," she said astutely.

A murmur echoed amongst the Men, and they were quiet a moment. One of the soldiers raised his hand, pointing eastward.

"The Captain has departed on errands. He will not return until the eve of war."

Her shoulders fell and the tall guard scrutinized her. "Yea, you cannot wait until then mistress. The wains leave within the next day or two."

She raised her chin, meeting his eyes coldly. "I will not be amongst them."

"Who are you, foolish lass?" said one of the soldiers, teasingly.

"Níniel."

Eva abandoned the Citadel for the lower levels of the city. While she was walking on the main road of the fifth level, a sudden cry broke the stillness. She pivoted, and found Nahald rushing towards her.

"Eva," he said, grasping her arm as if she was about to run away. "Why did you leave the inn without saying anything?"

"I sought Captain Faramir, but he was not there."

"Why? Are you considering leaving Minas Tirith? Milady, why do you stay here in the face of danger?"

_Because I want my child born in his city. Maybe I have the faintest hope he's alive and I'm afraid that Minas Tirith may fall because of something I did. I stay because it's all I have._

She did not say any of this, only glanced at him and allowed herself to be escorted back to the inn.

**March 9**

A distant sounding of trumpets smote the grey morning air, ringing like bells. It broke the dark oblivion of sleep, causing Eva to sit up anxiously in her bed. There was a creak from across the room as Mereth jolted awake, shaking the sleep from her eyes.

"What in the world are they blasting trumpets for at this hour?"

"Probably—"

There was a loud clatter of hooves on the street below their window, and a series of cries.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!"

Eva scrambled to the window, throwing it open. She caught sight of a white form barrelling up the distant road, heading for the fifth gate. Mereth came up behind her, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"The Fellowship, they must be here," she said.

"Why would only Gandalf come into the city?" she said, her heart plummeting. "Did something happen to the Fellowship?"

The two women looked at each other, then scurried around the room, grabbing their clothes. Eva threw her dress on and headed out while Mereth was still struggling with hers.

"Wait for me milady. We have time."

"I need to find out what happened to Boromir," said Eva softly.

After a quick breakfast, they strode to the seventh level of Minas Tirith. The courtyard was devoid of people, and the fountain played solemnly in the early morning light. They waited for an extended period of time, pacing back and forth across the white court. As the ninth hour bell rang, a pair of figures exited the Tower of Ecthelion, one tall and clad in sable, the other small as a child and bearing a green cloak. Eva stood suddenly, recognizing the large bare feet and curly hair as that of a hobbit.

As they came in their direction, she could not hide a smile. "Good morning little Master Pippin."

The Hobbit's eyes widened and he sidled forward quickly, bowing to them both. "Lady Eva. I never thought to see you again." He motioned to the soldier beside him. "This is Beregond."

She lowered her head in acknowledgment, then turned to the hobbit. "May we have a word in private?"

Pippin glanced noticeably at her belly and nodded. "Excuse us, Beregond."

They walked out to the jutting top of the white court, that stood in the midst of the city, like a ship bow. They clung to its edge, watching the movements of the city several hundred feet below.

"Pippin, what happened to the Fellowship? What happened to Boromir?"

He laid a small hand on her arm. "The Fellowship was broken at Amon Hen, when we were attacked by Uruks. Boromir died while defending Merry and I. He was pierced by many arrows, and he fell into the river. I believe the others would have given everything to save him, as would I. They sent his belongings in a boat down the Anduin, in his honour. He spoke constantly of you, but I had no idea—" He nodded in the direction of her belly. "He would have been a good father."

Eva mulled over his words a moment, her heart pounding and tears welling in her eyes. Pippin patted her arm once more, then turned.

"I believe Gandalf will be available this afternoon. He may be able to tell you more."

The Hobbit bowed and walked off in the other direction, following Beregond away.

**March 10**

Despite her efforts, Eva was unable to find Gandalf in the city. She spent her hours in the streets of Minas Tirith, which she now knew so well. The city was empty and quiet, filled with only soldiers and those who remained behind. The sky was constantly dark, a grey shroud of clouds overhanging them like a shadow. It deepened as the day waned, oppressing them with an anxious stillness, that waited for war. The enemy was coming soon.

At sunset, Eva and Nahald rode the horses down to the lower levels of the city, to give them exercise. No one (except soldiers) was allowed beyond the confines of the walls. The ride did not help their spirits, and the horses were restless, for they had been stuck long in the stables. As the pair rounded a corner shop, Nénar began prancing and throwing his head, fighting the hold his rider had on him. Eva pulled Hæstapa alongside him and calmed the gelding down, but her mare began to fidget as well.

"What is the matter with them today?" she asked. "It's—"

Suddenly a series of strong shuddering cries rent the air, overwhelming their senses and rattling their bones with fear. A horn bellowed after it, ending on a high pitch. Instantly Nénar reared and plunged forward, nearly throwing Nahald from his back. He took off down the road, his hooves clattering in a furious storm. Eva sent her horse into a gallop, and they soon caught up. Outside the main city gate, Eva and Nahald managed to stop Nénar.

"What was that?"

Soldiers standing nearby yelled at them, motioning them away from the gate.

"Nazgûl!"

Nahald grabbed Eva's reins and kicked the horse into a run. The front gate began to creak open, and there was yelling from the battlements above.

"Faramir!"

"Mithrandir!"

"Nahald stop," she shouted.

She managed to free the horse from his grasp, heading Hæstapa back down the main road. The doors were shutting behind a small group of men, at the forefront of which were Gandalf and Faramir. The two spoke together momentarily, breaking apart from the others.

"Faramir. Gandalf."

Though he was pale and still, the wizard lifted his head in her direction. "Lady Eva," he said. "Pippin told me he had seen you. Quite unexpected." Faramir looked at her questioningly, but remained silent. "Return with us to the Citadel, and we shall talk of many things."

The two men led the way to the upper levels of the city, followed by Eva and a confused Nahald. A clamour went up as they approached the last gate, a crowd of people gathering around the men and shouting their names. They had dismounted, when Faramir looked down, catching sight of Pippin.

"Where did you come from?" he said. "A Halfling, and in the livery of the Tower! Where…?"

Gandalf placed a hand on the man's shoulder, and spoke lowly. "He came with me from the land of the Halflings. We must not tarry here. There is much to say and to do, and you are weary. He shall come with us. He must attend on his lord again within this hour. Come, Pippin, follow us!"

He ushered them along and they walked into the King's Hall. Faramir called for servants and gave them instructions, sending Eva and Nahald to wait in an adjacent wing. Pippin, Gandalf, and the Captain went off to meet with the Lord of the City. The others were served a light meal during the hour they were gone. The three finally returned later, all seeming weary and solemn. Nahald bowed to the lords, politely excusing himself. Eva parted her cloak as the men sat down, causing Faramir to freeze. The pain in his face was replaced by surprise and sorrow.

"Milady, are you carrying—"

"Your brother's child," she finished, her voice gentle.

Faramir bowed his head, his face in his hands.

"Boromir had no idea," said Gandalf. "He did not mention such news. I am sorry you did not have the chance to tell him."

"I would have done anything to save him," she said strainedly.

The Captain gazed at her steadily, his eyes very much like Boromir's. "The child will be recognized as his, but we must tell my father—"

"In time," interrupted Gandalf. "I will not unleash your father on Eva until this war passes."

"Fine then. Lady Eva, you will be given a room in the Citadel with Gandalf and Pippin. If anyone asks, you are their companion." He rose to his feet, almost smiling. "We are family now. I want to protect all that is left of my brother."

Eva was led to a building near the Court of the Fountain, on the north side of the Citadel. She had an unobstructed view from Anórien to the Rauros Falls. The room was sparsely furnished, but it was outfitted with a great bed and smaller amenities. Her belongings were brought from the inn, along with a protesting Mereth, who felt moving troublesome and unnecessary. When the last bag was delivered, the elleth busied herself with unpacking.

"Mereth, slow down," said Eva.

"I can't with all that must be done. The room at the Archer's Inn was nicer."

"Yes, but more vulnerable."

"To attack?" asked Mereth. "I have the utmost confidence we are safe in this city."

"I'm not so sure," said Eva quietly. "It may fall to the Shadow."

**March 13**

Against all hope, the remaining son of Denethor was sent to defend Osgiliath. The river crossing was soon won by the enemy, and they encroached on the Rammas Echor, the outer wall of Minas Tirith. On orders, Eva was not allowed past the fifth level of the city. Nahald was recruited to the Houses of Healing, to attend on the wounded which began pouring in. Her restless mind sought refuge in the great library, but was not eased. She occasionally found company with Pippin, but he was usually called away to serve the Steward. Eva was cautious not to stray into Denethor's path, lest she be questioned and found out.

At the eve of morning, the bells rang out in alarm, calling all men to arms. Eva was woken from sleep by rumbling noises, and she flew from the house she was staying in. Her heart pounded faster and faster, as she stood beneath the White Tree, gazing outward from the city. In the overshadowing darkness, red flashes sparked upward in the distance, from where she knew the Pelennor fields to be. Screams went up from the city below and out of nowhere, a soldier ran through the seventh gate.

His eyes wild, he yelled, "They have taken the wall! They have blasted breaches in it! They are coming!"

The doors of the King's Hall opened, and several servants ushered the man into the building. One of the people looked curiously at Eva, but left her standing there alone. Eva went back to her room to dress, but shortly returned to the court, keeping vigil. Gandalf and many men came and went with tidings of battle. In the falling hours of evening, rivers of fire began pouring through the broken Rammas Echor, the enemies swarming across. Cries of the Nazgûl broke the air, spreading fear and terror amongst the inhabitants. They swooped through the darkness like birds of carrion, onto the retreating forces of Gondor. Horns sounded for help, rising against the unearthly shrieks of the Black Riders. The trumpets of Minas Tirith answered.

The main gate opened, sending forth a great force of riders, whose shouts filled the night. At their forefront rode a shining white figure, that sent forth light, hitting the Nazgûl. The trumpets sounded again, and the sortie retreated, escorting the remaining half of Gondor's vanguard. Much clamour rose in the city as the Knights of Dol Amroth climbed the winding road to the Citadel. Eva hurried forth from her waiting post, as a great number of men entered through the gate. The Tower of Ecthelion's door flew open, issuing a contingent of people. A tall helmed man with kingly armour rode forth and was helped off his horse. In his arms lay Faramir, his body bleeding and limp. Eva maneuvered her way through the men, watching as the Captain was placed at his father's feet.

The tall Prince studied the face of the men, and said, "Lord, your son has returned after great deeds. He stood against a champion of the Harad alone, protecting his men. He was smote by a black dart, and now poison fills his veins. He is very likely to die."

But the Steward was silent, and he ordered his son brought to the tower. The men departed from the courtyard, but Eva stood watching the tower, as a single light rose in a window.

**March 15**

The night was filled with terror, as the enemies of Gondor assaulted the walls of Minas Tirith with stone and fire. The front gate was broken and they swarmed into the lower levels of the city, which were now ablaze. Eva stood awake at her windows, watching the battle anxiously until her eyes were strained from the darkness and she fell asleep.

In the empty bleariness of her dreams, there suddenly came a high note, followed by a series of others. Great horns blowing in the wind, echoed dimly in the mountainside and rattled against the city. Eva broke from her chair and threw open the window, the sound entering the room like a magnificent song. The golden light of morning had broken against the shadow, a new force of soldiers appearing on the Pelennor Fields. Their banners waved brightly and their armour shone like stars in the sunlight, as they rode swiftly against the enemy encamped at the base of the city. Unable to contain herself, she shouted out the window, filled with a hope she had not felt in days. She threw on a dress and ran into Court of the Fountain, followed by a sleepy and terrified elleth. As she watched the battle ensue below, a lone woman came up behind them, her face strained and worried.

She bowed low, her voice quiet. "Excuse me, but if your hands could be spared, we need extra help in the Houses of Healing. Too many men have been injured, and may die without care."

"I have healing skills," said Mereth boldly.

"I don't know that much, but I can try," said Eva.

They were led to the sixth level of the city, where the Houses of Healing stood amongst wide green lawns and numerous trees. Dozens of soldiers laid on pallets along the walks and hallways of the buildings, shouting in pain or deathly silent. They were given aprons and set to work, helping the healers or tending on the wounded. She found a private room off the main corridor, its door closed against the din of the crowd. Eva knocked, then slowly opened the door and entered. The room was well furnished, even the sheets under the lone figure on the bed seemed expensive. Quietly she approached the man, and was shocked. It was Faramir. He lay cold and pale on the bed, as if on the verge of death.

A small voice in the corner spoke, old and sad. "We have done everything for him, but nothing will work. I am afraid the Steward will pass."

"Denethor fell in battle as well?" she asked, confused.

"No, he committed suicide and tried to burn his son alive. Lord Faramir is now Steward," said the old woman. "But it will take a miracle to heal him."

Eva studied the unconscious man, reactively clutching her abdomen. _Did she carry the last of the House of Stewards?_

_

* * *

_

**S/N (Story Notes): **Eva named herself "Níniel" to the soldiers, because she had spent the past week(s) crying over Boromir.

_**A/N:**_ Here you go, a longer chapter! I absolutely can't wait to post this next chapter. You will LOVE it :D


	30. Ch 30: Covenant

**A/N: **Can't forget about our Elves can we? This is the chapter you've been waiting for!

Chapter Thirty: Covenant

_"A work which is not here: a covenant_

_'Twill be between us; but, whatever fate_

_Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last,_

_And bear thy memory with me to the grave..._

_There is a comfort in the strength of love;_

_'Twill make a thing endurable, which else_

_Would break the heart…"_

_-Williams Wordsworth_

**Rohan, February 6**

A faint shimmer of gold appeared in the distance, as the sun began rising in the east. Rodyn gazed critically at the far-off form of Meduseld, noticing the front gates of Edoras opening. He nudged Arphain, who was busily dusting snow off the horses' tack.

"A group of men issued from Edoras. They fly a green banner. Think we should be concerned?"

Arphain shrugged, tightening the cinch of a saddle. "They most likely spotted us and wish to investigate. Let them come. Even our horses are hard pressed to outrun those of the Rohirrim."

They mounted their hoses and started in the direction of Rohan's main city. Within the hour, they crossed paths with a group of well armed men. The soldiers stayed behind their leader as he rode forth, raising an arm in greeting.

"Wes þu hal," he said, removing his helm.

"Mae govannen Théodred," said Arphain. "This is indeed a surprise."

"One of my scouts recognized you earlier on the road. When we spotted you across the Westfold, we wondered why you had not entered the city."

Rodyn motioned to Sadron, who was tied behind his horse, and bore an empty saddle. "Lady Eva went on with companions to Minas Tirith. We are returning north, and felt there was no need."

Théodred seemed disappointed at the news, and replaced his helm. "Let me provide you with a warm hearth on this winter day. Indeed, you must need it, having spent the night out here."

The Elf started to refuse, but Arphain interrupted. "We would be grateful."

They were escorted to Edoras, arriving while the morning was still young. As they rode down the center of the city, a shout suddenly came from behind them.

"Lord Théodred! Eoh-æþeling!"

The prince reined his horse to a halt; turning around as a soldier came clattering down the road. The man's armor was rent and bloodied, his horse foaming with sweat.

"Eadwig? What is it?"

The man bowed low on his horse, his breathing labored. He clung onto the pommel of his saddle, blood running between his fingers. "Lord, our contingent was ambushed in the snow as we went to Hereward. That village was ransacked by Orcs. We never saw them coming."

The prince sat still, then pivoted and quickly yelled commands to his men. "We ride to Hereward! We have Orc to hunt!" The men raised their swords and shouted in unison. Théodred turned to the Elves, watching as Arphain helped Eadwig off his horse. "Will you ride with us? We have need of your keen sight."

Rodyn hesitated, but nodded firmly. "We did not count on fighting, but we shall help Men where we can."

"I shall ride after you to help with the wounded," said Arphain. "This man will die unless he is stitched up immediately."

With a loud cry, the group rumbled through Edoras, drawing their weapons in preparation for battle.

.-.-.-.

The fire crackled and popped, its heat emanating outward onto the cold individuals. Rodyn concentrated on the orange embers, trying to drown out the screams and yells he still heard in his head. Beside him, Arphain clinked his spoon around in his soup bowl, staring off into the distance. Théodred sipped his drink quietly, examining the Elves.

"Thank you for your help today," he said.

Rodyn raised his head, a haunted look in his grey eyes. "I have not seen so much carnage in centuries…women and children slaughtered like animals."

"This is one among many growing incidents. We need all the hands we can muster."

"Then you shall have it. Arphain and I offer you our help to eradicate this problem soon as possible."

**February 21**

The Orc shrieked and troubledly ran in the opposite direction, trying to avoid the white horse and its Elven rider. A white fletched arrow spun through the air and struck it in the back of the head, causing it to drop dead onto the ground. Arphain turned his horse in mid-run and chased down another Orc, trampling the foul creature beneath his horse's hooves. He reached for his sword and hewed several more, until he had killed the last one. A brown horse cantered to a halt beside his mount, Théodred raising his sword in victory.

"That is the last of these brutes. They shall no longer bother the Westfold," he yelled to his men.

"I'm afraid there will be more, many more," said Arphain quietly.

The prince turned and nodded with the slight tilt of his head. "I'm afraid of that. They come in endless waves. I do not think these come from the East, they would not have gone so far without our knowing."

"They come from the Misty Mountains," said Arphain, wiping his blade carefully. "But they are not of a breed I have seen before. Has it been considered the traitor Saruman is building an army of his own?"

Several soldiers nearby looked over in amazement, but Théodred was silent a moment. "Those are precocious words. We have not yet had anything to fear from him."

"You will."

They returned to Edoras that night under a shroud of fog and rain, the sky grey and forbidding. A great number of men dined with them in Meduseld, for many had volunteered when the prince began gathering arms against the Orcs. They spent the evening drying beside the hearth, binding their wounds and prepping their weapons. As they sat discussing the day's events, a knock came at their door. In the entrance way, they found a wizened pale man with a malevolent twisted face, surrounded by five soldiers. He held out a piece of parchment, which had a large wax seal on it.

"Arphain and Rodyn?" he snipped.

"Yes," said Rodyn slowly. "Who are you?"

"Gríma, the king's advisor. By his command, you are discharged from Rohan's service, and to depart these lands forthwith by the end of tomorrow."

"For what reason?" asked Arphain, standing suddenly.

"By the King's pleasure, for saying treasonous things against Rohan's allies."

"We were not in the service of Rohan, but assisting the Lord Théodred. It is his will we shall hear above others."

"_Prince _Théodred is not King in Rohan, his father Théoden is. You had best follow this command, lest you heads sit on pikes before the front gate."

Rodyn snarled. "As it is there written, it shall be done." He slammed the bedroom door and bolted the lock, taking up his sword. He gazed at his companion, and said softly, "The shadow has fallen on Rohan."

**February 24**

The sky was tinged pink and purple, the sun's first rays of light falling on the sleeping forms of the two Elves. A steady wind swept across their backs, carrying memories of spring and tidings of the Wold. Suddenly Sadron squealed and the other horses neighed in distress. The sound woke Rodyn and Arphain, who tumbled from their bedrolls, alarmed. Bows strung, they stalked around the horses, surveying their surroundings. They saw nothing but grass for miles around. Arphain patted Sadron and took up his lead, slowly walking the horse around to calm him down. As they reached the top of the hill where they were camped, the horse's nostrils flared and he threw his head wildly. The Elf tightened his hold and patted the white neck soothingly. He gazed out on the plains once more, and froze.

"Rodyn!"

His companion bounded to his side, his weapon drawn. "What is it?"

Arphain pointed northward. "On the very edge of sight, what do you see?"

The Elf shielded his face and gazed outward, his mouth widening. "A great group of—Orcs? But they move too fast and in daylight! They run eastward."

Arphain glanced at him, an odd look in his eyes. "I say we should hunt them down."

"Our service to Rohan is complete. These creatures head away from this country," said Rodyn, raising an eyebrow.

"An unheard of breed of Orc that hunts in daylight and moves towards an unknown target? Sounds worthy of investigation."

"Do you know something I do not?" asked Rodyn. When the other Elf did not answer, he said sharply, "Arphain!"

"Not specifically, it's just something Lady Evelyn said once," answered Arphain quietly.

Rodyn stood askance for a moment, then nodded. "Let us hunt once more."

**February 26**

Despite the swiftness of their horses, the Orcs remained on the outer edge of sight. In the fringes of the Emyn Muil, they were reduced to following the odd creatures' tracks through the mountainous crags and rocks. They began pushing the endurance limits of the horses, feeling an unexplained determination to eradicate the enemy. Early morning, they came to the fringes of a wood, which grew thicker and thicker as they went forward. The Elves were forced to dismount and lead their horses on foot. A series of stone ruins lay scattered across their paths, making the tracks harder to follow. Rodyn led them faster and faster across the forest. Abruptly, a shrill cry broke the silence of the forest, fierce and loud. In the distance, they heard the loud rushing of a river.

"We have them cornered against the Anduin," said Rodyn brightly.

The Elves picketed their horses and took off on foot, their bows drawn. A number of large fresh prints led them along the shore of Nen Hithoel, the lake in the midst of the Anduin river. Finally, they came from behind a hedge, firing their bows into the midst of a clearing. The large Orcs screamed and part of the group turned and charged at them, while the main contingent went on. A multitude of black arrows embedded themselves in the trees above their heads, narrowly missing them. They had slain nearly all of the Orcs' vanguard, when a great horn call smote the air, deep and ringing among the hills and trees.

Arphain let go his last arrow and motioned to Rodyn, taking off in the direction of the noise. They threw down several Orcs as they ran, the creatures hitting the ground dead. They flew across a hill top, emerging on the edge of a glade by the river. They found the main contingent of Orcs swarming there, and were immediately assaulted with blades and arrows. They fought their way towards the center, where a trio was surrounded by the creatures. Two hobbits and a man wielded their weapons against the entourage, barely able to hold out. An Orc archer suddenly aimed at the man, a black arrow thudding into his shoulder. Rodyn was knocked down and nearly slain, but Arphain charged from behind and slew the Orc that attacked him. The archer was momentarily distracted by the new arrivals, but let loose another shot, striking the man in the abdomen. He staggered and dropped his broken sword, falling limply into the water. The screaming hobbits were yanked off their feet and carried in the other direction, the swarm of Orcs storming away. Rodyn took down the evil archer, as it fired several shots into the water. Arphain shed his weapons, diving into the swift moving river. In the freezing haze, he found the man and dragged him through the water. They landed on shore several hundred feet from where they'd gone in. Arphain gasped for air and slipped on the gravel, while he struggled with the man's weight. Carefully he laid the man on his back, and broke off the shafts of the Orc arrows. There were a series of loud footsteps nearby, causing Arphain to leap to his feet. From across the shore, Rodyn came sprinting up, his eyes wide and clothes coated in blood.

He walked curiously towards the man. "Who is this? Why have you saved him?"

"This is Lord Boromir of Gondor—"

"Eva's paramour?" asked Rodyn in surprise. "This is more than coincidence."

"Indeed. He is a member of the Fellowship. Most likely these Orcs were sent after them. He will not survive unless I get these arrows out of him."

Rodyn fetched the horses, while Arphain worked on Boromir, cleaning the man's wounds and stemming the bleeding. They put the man on a horse and rode away swiftly, making a beeline out of the woods. On the border of the Emyn Muil, they stopped and made camp under an overhanging crag. Arphain tended to Boromir, while Rodyn stood nearby, watching worriedly.

"Should we not go back for the others?"

Arphain shook his head, tearing open the man's shirt. "There were too many Orcs. We're lucky we got away. I am sure the others were not surrounded as we were."

After an hour, Arphain wrapped the last bandage on Boromir, then covered the man with a blanket. He sighed and took a place beside the fire Rodyn had built, his clothes stained red.

"He is alive for now. However, he has been poisoned by the Orc arrows. If we do not get him to Rohan for an antidote, he will die."

**February 29**

Boromir remained in a coma for several days, his fever rising rapidly and his wounds festering dangerously. Arphain's skill kept him from dying, but their supplies were low and few. He was hard pressed to keep the man alive. They rode throughout the day and long into the night, daring to even feed the horses bits of Lembas bread to keep them going. They crossed the river Entwash at a deep point and took chill in the cold weather, but kept moving forward. They stopped in two major towns in the Eastfold, but none had an antidote for the poison.

Under the shadows of the White Mountains, they came at last to Aldburg, the second largest city in Rohan. It sat nestled amongst a series of weathered grassy hills, its streets wide and filled with many people. They took board in the Gerestan Inn, and Arphain went out amongst the city to find the antidote. He returned late in the evening, carrying a small pouch of herbs. Long into the night he tended on the dying man, watching and waiting for some change to take place.

.-.-.-.

_The inky blackness clogged his mind and senses as he wandered through the darkness. _Blindly he searched with his hands, but he could not feel them. Fear washed over him, bogging him down even more. Out of nowhere, a soft familiar voice spoke his name.

"Boromir."

He turned to look behind him and the darkness melted into blinding light. He blinked rapidly and found that he was standing knee deep in water. Gentle waves lapped at his legs, which were bare. He wore only a long white tunic that ended at his knees. Confused, he surveyed his surroundings. He was standing on the bank of a river. It seemed familiar to him, but he could not name it. A series of white walled ruins lined the shore nearby, tumbled down and entangled with overgrowth.

_Tharbad? How did I get here?_

"Boromir."

Startled, he whirled around, nearly slipping on the gravel bank. Standing behind him as he remembered her, was Eva. She moved towards him slowly, but he bounded across the water with ease. He clasped her to him tightly, his mouth urgently seeking hers. She responded, but her movements were unsure and her skin was cold as ice.

"Boromir," she said again.

"My dear lady, what's wrong?"

Suddenly he felt sharp pains in his shoulders and belly, twisting and sharp. He broke from Eva, his eyes wild.

"What's going on?"

"You were shot by Orcs. You're dying. You have to fight it," she said sadly.

He doubled over, holding his side desperately. "I don't think I can," he said weakly, feeling a stream of blood between his fingers, and blackness began closing on the edges of vision.

She bent over, taking his head in her hands and kissing his brow. "Do you remember what you told me once? You would not leave me unless it was my will for you to do so. I do not want you to die. When you kissed me here in Tharbad, I felt I could be with you forever."

She put an arm under his, and yanked him to his feet, despite the wounds.

"Eva," he said faintly. "Let me go. I have done things that will make you ashamed of me."

"But can you let me go?" she said coldly, her blue eyes locked on his.

From deep within his body, he felt a flood of strength surge up. "No."

"Then get up, walk out of here, and stay alive."

_Striving against the pain, he kissed her and turned quickly, running out of the river._

"Boromir."

A flash of darkness then light appeared, blinding him. A tide of feeling returned to his limbs, drowning him in pain. His eyes opened slowly, and he found a white ceiling before him.

"Eva," he moaned.

He felt a hand on his chest, and Arphain's face appeared above his. "It's about time Lord Boromir. We were getting worried."

"Where am I? Where's Eva?" he asked. Clumsily he tried to get up, but was held down by the Elf.

"Settle down," said Arphain. "You're in Aldburg. Rodyn and I came upon the Fellowship while returning to Lórien, and rescued you. Eva went onto Minas Tirith a month ago."

Boromir closed his eyes a moment, absorbing his thoughts. He gazed steadily at Arphain. "Long as she is safe. I thank you for your services, but I must depart for my city."

"You're not going anywhere,: said Rodyn, stepping inside the room. "When you are stronger, write letters and we will have a messenger deliver them to Minas Tirith. Arphain and I did not save your life so you could throw it away."

The man was silent, but nodded and turned over on his side to sleep once more.

**March 9**

The windows of the room were tinged purple with early morning light, and in the distance a rooster crowed to welcome the dawn. The inn was still and silent within, all of its residents sleeping. From the center of Aldburg, there suddenly came a loud chorus of bells and voices.

"The Beacons of Gondor are lit! The Beacons are lit!"

The ringing echoed throughout the city, waking its inhabitants and calling the soldiers to arms. The sound rent against the windows of the Gerestan Inn, waking Boromir and the Elves. Troubledly the man got out of bed and stumbled down the main stairs, the others tailing him. Halfway down the flight, he tripped and nearly fell, but was caught by Rodyn. The Elf held onto him tightly, his grip firm and eyes hard.

"This is not your fight. This was a call to Rohirrim—"

"From my city!" shouted Boromir. "I am the Captain-General of Gondor. Minas Tirith needs me."

"Yes," said Arphain, grabbing onto the man. "But not half dead. Return to your room, and I shall find out what is going on. Under no circumstances are you to go riding off."

Rodyn tugged the man's tunic, and helped him back up the stairs. Arphain returned several hours later, his face grim and strained when he entered their room. Boromir sat up in bed, but remained there as Rodyn shot him a dirty look.

"Messengers also arrived in Rohan with the Red Arrow. Mordor is gathering armies to invade Gondor. They are expected within days," said Arphain, looking questioningly at Boromir.

The man grimaced, his face emotionless and stolid. "My country is valiant, but in need of strong leadership. I hope by the grace of the Valar my brother and lady survive this storm. I will not be foolish and jeopardize my health further, but I will be ready when Gondor needs me."


	31. Ch 31: Resurrection

**Chapter Thirty-One: Resurrection**

"_Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul."_

_-Victor Hugo_

"_If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,  
Injurious distance should not stop my way;  
For then, despite of space, I would be brought,  
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.  
No matter then although my foot did stand  
Upon the furthest earth remov'd from thee;  
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,  
As soon as think the place where he would be.  
But, ah, thought kills me that I am not thought,  
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,  
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,  
I must attend time's leisure with my moan;_

_Receiving nought by elements so slow  
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe."_

_-William Shakespeare_

**March 15**

Eva's hem was stained with blood and grime, from hours upon hours spent cleaning and caring for the wounded. Smoke wafted from the dying fires in the city and filled the air, swirling into the Houses of Healing. Despite the multitude of soldiers spread out across the grounds, there were few sounds, most of the people deathly silent. The corridors were dimly lit with candles, and stillness pervaded the halls. After hours of work, she finally stopped for a break, finding herself once more outside Faramir's room. Sleepily she took a chair near the door, and leaned her head against the wall, hands folded against her belly.

"I give you no rest little one," she said softly. "We may have won this day, but how many people will die before this war is over?"

Her eyes heavy with weariness, she drifted off to sleep. In the depths of her dreams, she was woken by a small hand in hers, squeezing it gently. She stirred awake and found Pippin standing next to her, watching her concernedly.

"Lady Eva, are you alright?"

She smiled and stretched her arms, then getting to her feet. "I am now. I have spent the entire day worrying over the battle and half dead men. It is tiring business." A number of voices rose behind her, echoing from Faramir's room, where the door stood ajar. She turned to Pippin, who was peeking from behind her skirts. "Who is in there?"

"Strider!" he said brightly. "He has come to heal Faramir and everyone he can." Her eyes widening, she strove for the door, but the Hobbit held her back. "I was asked not to let anyone disturb."

Frowning, she gazed through the half open door, watching the occupants within. Aragorn was bent over the bed, surrounded by a number of other people and Gandalf. He broke a series of leaves into a bowl, and placed it before the unconscious man's face. Suddenly he stirred, blinking rapidly and gazing up at Aragorn.

"My lord, you called and I am here. What does the King command?"

"Walk no more in the darkness, awake! Take care and do not wear yourself out. Be ready when I return," said Aragorn. He stood and was walking out of the room, when he nearly ran into the hobbit and woman. He grinned knowingly at them and greeted Eva with a slight bow, raising an eyebrow as he noticed her protruding stomach. "Many meetings on this dark day, but the shadows have fled. Rejoice!" Nodding, he said lowly, "We shall discuss many things later."

She walked into the room, watching as Faramir was helped to sit up by a healer. He glanced at the pair in the doorway, and ushered them in.

"I did not expect to see you here," he said. "I expected you might have evacuated Eva."

Eva took a seat at the foot of his bed, folding her hands in her lap. "Nothing could have kept me from this city. I have taken it as my own, and would have gone with the city, had it fallen."

Faramir's face was hard for a moment, but he sighed. "You sound like my brother. He would've given anything to save his country and Minas Tirith. I hope his sacrifice was not in vain."

"I would not let it be," said Pippin, walking forward.

"Aragorn will find a way, especially with Gandalf here," she said, suddenly recalling a fact. "There is much hope left."

Curiously the man examined her, seeing the brightness of her eyes. "I think there is something you have not told me."

"Yes, but there is only so much I can tell you," she said quietly, lowering her face. "But I will tell you the truth about my journey with Boromir. Perhaps you will better understand the final months of your brother's life."

.-.-.-.

Flickering light poured from the tall windows of the Houses of Healing, and fell in patterned shadows onto the terrace below. The pair's footsteps were noiseless and airy on the stone walkway, but their voices carried across the courtyard. Mereth and Eva stopped before the green lawn, near a fountain that played coolly in the night. They sat on its stone edge, watching the star dance across the small waves. Reveling in the twilight, Mereth began to sing quietly.

A sound nearby distracted them. Across the paved terrace, Eva found Aragorn watching the elleth, a longing expression on his face. He strode across the courtyard slowly, surprising Mereth and interrupting her singing.

"Please continue," he said wearily. "It seems forever since I heard songs of the Elves."

When she had finished, she bowed and left the two alone. Aragorn turned to Eva, his face solemn and heavy with fatigue.

"You wished to speak with me?" she asked.

"It has been a long day, but I have not forgotten about you. I do not wish to be presumptuous, but is the child Boromir's?" said Aragorn.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "There was never anyone else but him."

The Ranger pensively lowered his head a moment. "I can only begin to fathom the loss you must feel and that your child will feel when it is older. I lost my father when I was but three years old. If I did not have good individuals to bring me up like my mother and Elrond, it would've been worse."

"I will be both mother and father to this child," said Eva, patting her stomach tenderly. "But it has a good family already."

"When we survive this war, come to me with anything you need," said Aragorn. "Though Boromir no longer lives, his son or daughter will grow up in the City of Kings with all due honor."

"Thank you," she said softly. "And despite the situation, I believe Faramir should be the one to keep the Stewardship. He is a good leader and Captain, and it is rightfully his."

"I agree."

Aragorn bowed to her and walked off, leaving Eva alone in the courtyard.

**March 25**

Despite their fear of the shadow and the impossible odds, the Captains of the West set out to strike at the heart of Sauron in Mordor. Their men and horses set out across the river, leaving the city partially vulnerable and less defended than before. The city was almost empty, most of the soldiers having gone with the strike force. Also, many of the wounded volunteered to go, leaving the Houses of Healing with more room. Eva continued her work with the Healers, feeling as if she was finally making a difference. She determined that someday if she learned enough, she could accomplish the same tasks as the elder women of the Houses. She knew the layout of the grounds well by now, and was there every day with Mereth. Often while walking, she spoke with Merry and Faramir, whom she saw always walking with Éowyn of Rohan.

In the late morning, Eva took leave of the Houses, feeling tired and sore from her tasks. She wandered to the wall of the sixth level to revive herself, the wind strong and airy as it came from the West. Some of the soldiers stationed on the wall watched her and went back to their business. She tightened her cloak around her and gazed out Eastward, lost in thought. A sudden gust of wind caught her hair and streamed it behind her like a dark banner. The shadow overhanging the city broke and scattered in the wind, light breaking through the clouds and leaping forth. The walls gleamed like pearl and the Anduin far below caught the sun and sparkled silver. Out of the East, a dark form appeared on the horizon, growing in size and form until it was swooping over Minas Tirith. The great Eagle called aloud and cried:

"Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,  
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,  
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.

Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,  
for your watch hath not been in vain,  
and the Black Gate is broken,  
and your King hath passed through,  
and he is victorious.

Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,  
for your King shall come again,  
and he shall dwell among you  
all the days of your life.

And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,  
and he shall plant it in the high places,  
and the City shall be blessed.

Sing all ye people!"

Shouts and singing rang throughout the city, bells starting to chime and trumpets sounded. The soldiers nearby leapt to their feet and yelled until they were hoarse. Eva's breath caught in her throat and she cried, not caring how many people saw.

**April 1**

Word spread quickly of Rohan and Gondor's victory against the enemy, and how Mordor was thrown down by the efforts of two extraordinary hobbits. Their forces returned to the city in triumph one spring morning, singing songs of their glory. The residents of Minas Tirith had half returned, and gave them a mighty welcome as they marched in. The Captains of the West rode at the forefront of the armies, guiding them throughout the levels of the city. Eva, Mereth, and Nahald were excused from their duties for the day to watch the celebrations. They stood at the entrance of the seventh level, throwing flowers to the soldiers and Hobbits when they passed by. They caught the attention of Merry, who broke from the group and headed for the trio.

"Hello there," he said. "Come along, I'm sure the others will want you to join this celebratory feast."

"The Gondorians have had many of these this week," said Nahald.

Eva laughed, stepping towards the hobbit. "We know how to throw a party."

They entered the main hall of the citadel, where she was reunited with the Fellowship, Éomer, and introduced to other nobles. The feast was full of merriment and people, the great room brimming with music and food. Eva danced several times, until the child's weight took a toll and she retired to a corner. Mereth found her shortly after, and took a chair beside her, checking over Eva carefully. She handed the woman a cup of water, and smiled.

"I have not seen you this happy in a long time," said Mereth. "You are well cared for here."

"These are good people," replied Eva. "I feel at home among them."

"Then you plan on staying here for good?"

She nodded, sipping her water slowly. "Yes. My child's family is here, which is mine as well."

"And this is what you want?"

"It's what Boromir would've wanted," she said softly.

The elleth placed a hand on her arm and said, "I hope you not feel that I am abandoning you, but this means my work is done. I will return to Rivendell, and my own family."

"I have expected it for some time," said Eva. "You are a good friend, and I will miss you."

The feast ended early in the evening, as the sun was low in the sky. Afterwards, Eva took to the gardens, reviving herself in the fresh green surroundings of the main courtyard. The others returned to their lodgings, leaving her with a solitary peace she had not felt in a long time. The season's flowers were already in bloom around her, filling the air with their scents. The trees' long shadows fell across the walkway and lined it like pillars. Their leaves rustled muffledly in the gentle wind. The courtyard's stillness was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps.

"Eva," said a familiar voice.

She turned on her heel, finding Faramir at the entrance. His face was alight with joy, in a way she'd never seen before. A little ways behind him, stood a tall cloaked figure with its hood drawn overhead.

"Yes?" she asked questioningly.

"You have a visitor," said Faramir, grinning.

He stepped back, urging the figure forward. In the dim spring light, the hood fell to the person's shoulders, but she could not see his face. The stranger stood watching her a moment, then stepped out of the shadows. Eva's heart stopped and she gasped, her eyes widening. She choked back a cry, her throat thick and eyes swelling with tears.

_It couldn't be…_

"Boromir," she said, her voice breaking.

She struggled not to collapse, her knees like jelly. The man troubledly strode across the walkway, a look of incredible pain and longing in his face. He took her in his arms and all at once, he was holding and kissing her. His mouth was warm and urging, his hands around her waist and woven in her hair. They stood this way for several moments, until they were desperate for air and clinging to each other.

"My beautiful Eva."

Boromir sank to his knees, his hands against her belly. "And my child," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Is this a dream?" she asked dazedly, clutching him tightly.

"No," he said softly. "Though I dreamt of this so often—I have done you a great wrong my love."

She kneeled upon the ground, touching his face tenderly. "How—how are you alive? They all said you were dead!"

"I nearly was." He moved aside the collar of his shirt, showing her a long white bandage across his chest. "Arphain and Rodyn rescued me. It is a miracle I am alive."

"Yes, yes it is," she said, kissing him once more.

.-.-.-.

The moonlight shone through the tall windows, and glistened on the red and gold hangings above the bed. Boromir lay watching the shadows of tree branches on the walls, drawing comfort from the familiarity of his room and the woman next to him. He stroked the nape of Eva's neck, and ran his fingers drowsily to the side of her abdomen. She stirred from the depths of her thoughts and grasped his hand with her own, squeezing it gently.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you as well," he said. He shifted and pulled something from the pocket of his pants, slipping it in between her fingers. His breath was warm and caressing on her ear. "Will you marry me?"

She felt the cold smooth metal of the ring in her hand, and gripped it tightly. She lifted her head and met his eyes in the darkness. "I will."

* * *

**A/N: **Don't worry, it's not over yet! :) More to come soon! PS, certain things like Boromir belong to Tolkien; I take no credit for them. Happy New Year! The fifth year anniversary of this story is coming up, holy cow!


	32. Ch 32: Cost of Love

Chapter Thirty-Two: Cost of Love

"_Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,  
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,  
Then shalt thou better know his love, his heart,  
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears…"  
-Lisbeth Scott_

"_It is hard to contend against one's heart's desire; for whatever it wishes to have it buys at the cost of soul"  
-Heraclitus_

**April 2**

Echoes of clattering and voices ran through the open doors into the narrow hallway. Boromir and Eva crept into the chamber slowly, but the noise halted as everyone in the room stopped to look at them.

"Morning," said Boromir.

The Fellowship and Faramir were seated around a long marble table, piled with all sorts of food. The hobbits were greedily digging into their plates, which were full of everything. Merry and Pippin hopped from their chairs and toddled towards the pair. They clasped hands in greeting with Boromir and eagerly ushered him to the table.

"Aragorn told us the news last night, but it's still a surprise," said Pippin cheerily, pulling out chairs for them.

Faramir passed a pitcher as his brother sat, and raised an eyebrow. "Is that a ring I spy on Lady Evelyn's finger?"

Eva's cheeks reddened and she twisted the ring on her right hand. Boromir grinned widely, unable to contain himself.

"Yes, we're to be wed within a fortnight."

There was a chorus of well wishes around the table, and clanging of cups.

"This is far sooner than expected," said Faramir wryly.

"You yourself were quick to pick a wife," replied Boromir, nudging him. "A shieldmaiden of the North no less."

"Yes, but my patience is great. We are not to be wed until next summer."

Boromir glanced at Eva, squeezing her hand. "Circumstances are such, that waiting is over."

**April 15**

Word of Boromir's return and impending marriage spread quickly throughout the population of Gondor. A multitude of visitors and gifts poured in the following days, until the house they were to occupy was well furnished. The day dawned clear and sunny, the air warm and fragrant with spring's first blooms. At first light, Eva bathed and donned the gown Mereth had made for her, of pale gold cloth with a white belt. She sat before a polished bronzed mirror while the elleth fussed over her, and she watched the birds playing on the window sill nearby.

She felt a whorl of excitement and anxiety in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. In the back of her mind was a warning, that despite the day there was going to be some cost in the end. Nervously she laid hands on her belly, which was quite distended now, being five months along. She felt a sharp prick on her scalp, and instinctively she jerked her head.

"Ow Mereth."

The elleth tutted and turned her head firmly. "No moving," she said, placing another burnished pin in the woman's hair.

A knock at the door interrupted Mereth's incessant chatter, and a servant popped her head into the room. "Ma'am, they're ready for you."

"In a minute," said Mereth dismissively. She poked Eva once more, then stood back admiring her handiwork. "I will see you outside. Hurry."

A warm stream of air blew into the King's Hall, as the building's front doors were opened. It carried the sound of voices falling silent and a harp playing to the melody of a female singer. A scatter of petals brushed the hem of Eva's dress as she stepped into the daylight. The fading spring sun sprawled long shadows across the walkway. She lowered her head in respect to Almiel, Prince Imrahil's granddaughter, who placed a crown of flowers on her head.

Arphain stepped from the side and helpfully took her arm, walking with her onward. She could not help glancing ahead, past the sea of people, where Boromir stood beneath the White Tree. The fluttering in her stomach increased, and she swallowed, trying to keep her feet going forward. At the end of the human aisle, Arphain handed her palm to Boromir and bowed. They turned towards the fountain hand in hand, where Gandalf stood. Eva and Boromir's hands were loosely bound with a ribbon and knot. Her heartbeat blocked out most of what she heard, but she mumbled in the correct places. In the flurry of activity, their rings and vows were exchanged, plus gifts to people representing each of their families.

Gandalf removed the knotted ribbon and directed them towards the crowd. "I give you Lord Boromir and Lady Evelyn, husband and wife united in marriage before the One."

A great cheer went up and waves of flowers were thrown over their heads as they passed by. Various verses of song chorused throughout the crowd, from young and old alike.

.-.-.-.

The white moonlight shone pale on the snowy stoned building before them. It rose several stories high, with a domed roof and long windows. Elegant masonry and statues covered its front and terrace. Above its tall double doors was written a single word, "Arandur."

Boromir led Eva to the doorstep and in a big swoop took her in his arms. Laughing, she clung to his neck as he jaunted through the doors, into a vaulted entryway. They passed through ancient and ornate rooms, until they came to a single chamber. Servants cast open the doors and shut them tightly behind the pair. He finally released her onto an enormous four poster bed, with white sheets and a blue coverlet. Eva propped herself up against the pillows, and watched him begin removing his boots.

"You grow heavier by the day," he said wistfully, flexing his arms.

Eva clamped onto his shoulders, sprawling him backwards onto the bed. "You, my love, are partially responsible for that."

"As are you my wife," he said teasingly.

They shed the rest of their clothes and climbed beneath the covers, clasping each other.

"This is your house now," said Boromir, brushing the hair from her face.

"Are you sure your brother does not mind?" she asked.

"No, he does not. This house is mine by right as eldest son, though he retains the Stewardship. Faramir will live here with us until his house in Emyn Arnen is complete. Now sleep."

Eva blew out the candles and faced him eagerly. "I have no intention of that tonight, husband."

**July 12**

The candlelight gleamed on the sheet of gold at the far end of the King's Hall, breaking through the long shadows cast by pillars and the ancient stone statues. Eva's footsteps were slow and awkward, but barely sounded on the floor, despite the full belly she bore. She reached the golden bier, bowing in respect and turning to the lone figures standing before it.

"Pardon the interruption," she said softly. "Faramir, Boromir was looking for you."

The dark head turned and his familiar grey eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Eva, do not be concerned. Éowyn and I were just discussing the upcoming funeral journey. It is in a few days."

"I feel like I knew him quite well," said Eva. "Éomer said Théodred was the spitting image of his father."

"Indeed he was," said Éowyn. "And Théoden was as a father to me."

Faramir nodded in agreement, then unfolded his hands, studying Eva. "It seems your belly grows every time I see you. Surely Boromir did not send you on such a trivial errand as fetching me?"

"I volunteered," she said dismissively. "I went earlier to check on Hæstapa and her new foal."

The pair turned and began walking alongside Eva down the length of the hall.

"How is the newborn?"

"Areoh is quite well, and spirited like his mother," said Eva, smiling. "Éowyn thank you for your help during the birth. I was afraid we might lose both."

"It was no problem. I haven't helped out in the stables in awhile. I was inside the past few years caring for my Uncle."

"And now it is my turn to care for you," said Faramir, clutching Éowyn's hand.

They continued out into the courtyard, Éowyn parting at the level gate. Faramir continued on with Eva towards the Arandur household, which sat on the westward side of the seventh level. The guards let them pass through the main gate without a word. Eva was quiet as they entered the main hall, then stopped Faramir in his tracks.

"I need your help."

"Whatever I may do to assist."

"I need you to talk to Boromir," she said hesitantly. "Convince him that I must go with the funeral escort partway."

Her brother-in-law lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Eva, I can't possibly support such foolish action. You're due within a few weeks."

"Precisely why I have to go," she said pleadingly. "July twenty-second is the day I arrived, one year ago. I have had these vivid dreams of Mering Stream. The waters part and a woman rises from it. She haunts my steps and kills me as I give birth, because I was not at the stream waiting for her."

"Eva," he said reprovingly. "I will not let you put yourself in jeopardy. You and that unborn child are everything to my brother."

"Faramir, I have no choice. My life is in danger. I will go with the escort or without it, but nothing can stop me from getting there."

He stared at her a long moment, then lowered his head. "You're just as stubborn as he, and I'd rather you were safe in our hands. I will speak to him."

**July 14**

"I still do not like it," said Boromir, handing her bag into the wagon. "I should be coming with you."

Eva bent over the side and framed his bearded face with her hands, kissing him. "I will be back before I give birth. Nothing shall take our child or I."

Gruffly he nodded and stepped back from the wagon, looking sharply at the woman settled next to Eva. "Elulîn, take care of her as your mother did me—or you will never be safe in Gondor again."

The handmaiden bowed her head in acquiescence. Boromir stepped back further, watching his wife carefully. A contingent of horses came forward, among them the Rohirrim and Gondorians to escort King Théoden's body home. They lined along the middle of the streets and took off, the main city barrier cleared for their passage.

The funeral procession headed away from the city on the East-West road. Their pace was steady and slow, but Eva was uncomfortable in the back of the wagon. She would have preferred riding a horse, but did not want to put herself at risk. Elulîn respected her space and did not fuss over her every second like Mereth had. They passed from the hills of Gondor into the wooded areas, all of which was beginning to seem familiar to her. At dusk on the sixth day, the train came to a sudden stop, jarring Eva awake from her dozing.

"Brêgobel," murmured the wagon driver, seeing her puzzled expression.

Eagerly she peered over the wagon side, balancing herself as it jolted to a start. The tall stone walls passed by on either side, looming intimidatingly. A great multitude of people left their houses and curiously followed them along the main road. Near the center of town, their procession halted once more. Several key members of their traveling party stopped before the entrance of a familiar inn, and began speaking to the bewildered people standing before it. From a distance, Eva vaguely recognized the man Elfhelm and Faramir were speaking to. Troubledly she climbed down from the back of the wagon, and made her way to the men. The portly man speaking to their contingent was the innkeeper who had denied them harbor in the middle of winter.

Eva spoke lowly to Elfhelm, garnering a glare from the innkeeper. "I believe it best look elsewhere for accommodation, as this man is ruthless. Seek the house of Haldan Argildin, he is hospitable and noble."

The Marshal bowed and nodded to the others, the procession moving towards the outermost walls of Brêgobel. The doors of the ancient Argildin home opened as they neared, Haldan and his family greeting the encroaching assembly. Once more Eva made her way to the forefront, introducing the family and negotiating accommodations. Most of the contingent prepared their sleeping posts in the pastures, while key members were given rooms to stay in. Eva was led to the room she once shared with Mereth. In the middle of unpacking her things with Elulîn, the door creaked open slowly, admitting a willowy girl with light brown hair.

"Hello Halîrîn," said Eva.

"My father wanted to make sure you were served first"

"It's not necessary, but thank him for me."

"Is there anything you need?" asked Halîrîn.

"Not at the moment. I only ask you be available when the time comes."

The girl bowed and shut the door, leaving the two women alone. Elulîn glanced at Eva suspiciously, but she did not answer the questioning look.

.-.-.-.

The funeral escort departed the following day, leaving Eva and her small entourage in Brêgobel. Her parting with Faramir was difficult. He had tried to convince her to return to Minas Tirith or continue onto Rohan, but she had steadfastly refused.

The next morning, Eva awoke with the first tinge of dawn, careful not to disturb Elulîn. She descended downstairs, exiting quietly into the back pasture of the Argildin estate. Halfway to the stables, she met Halîrîn, who was standing beside a horse hooked up to a two person cart. In the back was a basket of supplies, including food and blankets. The girl silently greeted her and assisted with climbing in. With a quick flick of the reins, they sped from the yard and down the trail along Brêgobel's outer wall.

"Why did you choose me over your handmaiden on this excursion?"

"Because I trust you wholly, and you are more experienced," said Eva decisively.

The girl smiled and murmured to the horse, sending it into a faster trot. The sun was full in the sky when they finally pulled the cart to a stop on the roadside. Warily she followed Eva into the woods, helping her with a hand beneath an elbow. A good distance into the woods, they found Mering Stream, and the all too familiar clearing. They settled for a spot near the large boulder, allowing Eva to lean against it.

"Can you fetch the blankets? It's a bit chilly."

"I'll be back shortly."

She watched the girl scamper off into the line of trees, then closed her eyes. Sighing, she took in the sounds of the splashing waves, the wind rustling through the leaves, and the birds singing in the distance. Minutes passed, and she was on the bleary edge of sleep when she felt the child kick hard. Eva groaned and opened her eyes slowly, feeling strangely uncomfortable and heaviness in her lower abdomen. Troubledly she got to her feet, shuddering. Suddenly her hands flew beneath the hem of her dress, and she yelled loudly.

"Halîrîn!"

A minute later, the girl broke through the trees, the basket of supplies in her hand. Eva grasped Halîrîn's arm tightly, her voice strangely calm.

"My water broke. The child is coming."

"I only have experience with birthing livestock," stuttered the girl, her eyes wide.

"Same here," said Eva, smiling bitterly.

"We must get you back to town."

A ripple of pain burst across Eva's stomach, and she bowed over, hands on her belly. "That's not possible. And by the time you go – and fetch help, I'll be very far along. Spread out the blankets please."

Shaking her head, Halîrîn pulled her up straight. "Not yet. You must walk through the first part. It will help the coming pain."

The hours dragged by, slowly sapping Eva's strength. When the sun beat down at noon, she was on the ground, her pain growing. The shadows lengthened across the grass and the wind died down in the later hours. The daylight waned and she was moved against a tree trunk, to brace herself for labor. Despite having stripped down to her shift, sweat clung to her messy braid and soaked her through. Her hands were balled into fists, her legs apart while Halîrîn bent over her. Another contraction hit her, and she cried out loudly.

"You're doing fine," the girl said reassuringly. "The first child is almost here."

Eva's shoulders slumped and she stared wild-eyed. "_First_?"

"You're carrying twins."

"Boromir," said Eva gruffly. "You bast-"

She screamed once more, gripping the blankets tightly with her palms.

"Push! Push!"

Eva's faced scrunched, in effort to stop herself from yelling. A minute later, there was a lulling silence, then a small high-pitched wail. Halîrîn sat upright, a pink bloodstained bundle in her arms.

"You have a son."

Carefully she placed him in the basket of blankets, and refocused her attention on his mother.

"Kelvyn," choked Eva, fighting back tears.

Another wave rippled through her, and she tensed, causing Halîrîn to start. "Once more."

The minutes were agonizing, the tension in Eva mounting, until finally a second wailing joined that of her son. Halîrîn handed the small infant to her, smiling widely.

"You have a daughter."

The tears ran unashamed down Eva's face, blurring her vision while she examined the baby in her arms.

"Elora," she whispered.

The sea-grey eyes opened and focused on her curiously. Halîrîn jumped as Kelvyn let out another cry, causing her to pick him up gently.

"We need to clean you up."

She lifted the boy from the basket, carrying him beside the stream. Eva noticed the girl reaching for the water, and screamed.

"NO!"

The water burst onto the shore and engulfed the pair, the specter of a pale hand reaching for the baby. Elora securely slid onto the ground, her mother then leaping forward and diving into the stream after the disappearing child. The blue light of the stream swirled into blackness before Eva's eyes. A series of images flashed across her vision.

_The surprised faces of the entire Langley family, Leora Langley holding her child and watching Eva walk away, the boy waddling on newfound legs, blowing at candles, chasing through fields after other children…_

"_All is repaid," said a clear ringing voice in the distance._

A sudden wail rent the veil of blackness before her eyes. The hard solid ground pressed beneath her head, and a shudder passed through her despite the warm air. Her eyes snapped opened and she stumbled to her feet, gazing around wildly. The unconscious form of Halîrîn laid next to her on the shore, and a single empty blanket floated like a ghost in the stream. Eva crumpled to her knees, shrieks breaking through her sobs. She grasped blindly at the water, but the blanket floated away on the waves, downstream. A hand suddenly grasped her shoulder, the kind and worried face of Halîrîn next to hers.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"Elena—took my child," she gasped.

"Who is Elena?" asked Halîrîn confusedly. Her head snapped towards the birthing area, and she pointed. "Milady…your child is right there."

"There were **two**!" said Eva, impatiently rising to her feet.

"I only helped you birth one," the girl said, eyeing her warily. "I must've passed out afterward."

"Then why are there two umbilical cords?"

"I—"

Eva collapsed onto the ground next to her daughter, hollowness and pain twisting inside her like an angry monster.

**July 31**

The white pillows beneath her were soaked through with drying tears, though she had stopped crying several hours ago. Despite this, she did not have the urge to leave the bed. There was a dull creaking sound, the chamber door opening and drawing her attention.

Knowing it was probably Éowyn or Halîrîn with Elora, she shouted, "Go away!"

Boromir appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and a worried expression etched in his face. "I will do no such thing, my love. I have barely seen you these past days. Being away from you now pains my heart all the greater."

Eva rolled onto her side, reaching for him. He crossed the room in three strides, and encased her in his arms. They sat quietly for several minutes, until he bent down, pleadingly gazing at her.

"Please will you leave this room? My grief is as yours, but we must not hurt ourselves with it. No good with come from it."

She bit her lip and nodded hesitantly, letting him slide her off the bed. She slipped out of her dress, which she'd worn since the day Halîrîn had rushed her from Brêgobel. Boromir led her from the bedchamber, out onto a second floor terrace overlooking the city. She blinked in the blue tinged light, looking questioningly at Boromir.

"It's dawn?"

"I wasn't going to let you sleep through another day."

He encircled her waist with his arms, letting her lean against him.

"It feels as if my life was taken from me. I have no reason to stay awake any longer."

He tilted her head, his eyes hard. "Eva, there is so much before you. Our life together has barely started, and especially that of our child—"

"Children," she corrected.

"Kelvyn is gone," he said quietly. "Forever."

Eva's lips tightened and she was silent a moment. "Yes, but he is safe and Elora is too. Elena will not take her too."

"Then shake off this grief. He will be loved, and someday know of the sacrifice you made for him."

She turned and smiled, her face more alive than he'd seen it in days. "I will see him again one day—"

"Eva, you cannot know that," he said, sighing.

"She told me," said Eva quietly. "I will take what _you _and she have given me…love and family."

Suddenly she kissed him solidly, drawing him close and taking in every fiber of his being. As they stood watching the first blush of dawn spread across the city, a faint song broke the stillness and a baby giggled. Halîrîn was singing the song Eva had taught her for Elora.

"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet,  
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.  
Oh! The last rays of feeling and life must depart  
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene  
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green.  
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill  
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still…

Sweet vale of my land! How calm could I rest,

In thy bosom of shade, with those I love best.  
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease  
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace."

.-.-.-.

**A/N: **One more chapter to go and we're done! It'll be posted by the end of this week!


	33. Epilogue

**A/N: **I suggest re-reading chapter sixteen.

Epilogue

"_For everything you have missed,  
you have gained something else,  
and for everything you gain,  
you lose something else._

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

**Creek Halls, Aster, Missouri. Thirteen years later…**

The small pale hands stretched towards the top shelf of the closet, their goal a beige cowboy hat stuffed there. The boy wobbled precariously on his tiptoes, his hands brushing the edge of it. He fumbled for it once more, clawing at the shelf as he suddenly lost his balance. He fell backward, the hat and other things crashing onto him.

"Ow."

Rubbing his head, he looked down at the items sprawled around him. A small wooden box with the letters "EL" engraved on it caught his attention, and he carefully picked it up. He had never seen this before, why was it hiding in his mother's closet? He unlatched the lock easily, two items falling into his lap. The first was a silver bracelet that clinked melodically as he examined it. The second was a very old journal, its cover emblazoned with gold and green designs of running horses. Curious, he opened the cover, and read the neat handwriting on the first yellowed page.

"I hope one day, this will help someone understand at least part of my life. What happened in the days written here are so wondrous, no one might believe it. But it happened. No amount of explaining can go into the depth of what I've experienced, all because of one woman's pain.

I have tried to consider whether the path I have taken is of my own making, or simply one into which I've drifted with eyes closed. Time passes in endless moments, which rushing past, have defined the path of my life. Until this change came, I rarely stopped to examine that path. What if I long ago I had stopped and took stock of each precious moment before it passed? Would I have seen the endless forks in the road that shape my life? Might I have chosen another path that would lead away from here? Would I have met the same fate as my foremothers?

I feel an inevitable pull these days towards something that calls me home—"

"Kelvyn!"

Startled, he dropped the book, looking sheepishly at the figure in the doorway of the bedroom. Abby folded her arms, staring at him suspiciously.

"What're you doing in mom's closet?"

Against his will, he turned red, as he did every time he looked at his foster-sister. Though she was a year older than him, he had a gigantic crush on her. His hands fumbled behind his back for the silver bracelet, and he stumbled to his feet, slipping it into his pocket. He would give it to her later. He reached for the cowboy hat, and plopped it on his head, grinning mischievously.

"Now I couldn't go riding on Halloween without a cowboy hat, now could I?"

She rolled her eyes and he followed her out of the room, down the hallway. On the floor, the journal's last page slowly unfurled, catching the stray beams of light from the nearby window.

"All I hope is that someday this unborn child in my belly will read this and understand that I love him or her eternally. No matter what happens.

-_Evelyn Lynch_.

House of Arandur. 21 Cermië, 3019."

The children's footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway, as they ran out the front door laughing. Kelvyn skidded to a halt on the porch, nearly banging into his mother, Leora Langley.

"What're you two doing?"

"I caught him in your closet. He wants to play dress up," yelled Abby from across the yard.

"Do not!" retorted Kelvyn, taking off across the lawn.

Leora shook her head, watching them run towards the stable. "Kel, take Blitz this time, not Basil. His arthritis is acting up."

The boy waved his cowboy hat in the distance, the stable door closing with a slam behind him. She sighed, turning towards the house. The boy was similar, but different in many ways from the somber woman who had turned up on her doorstep thirteen years ago. Evelyn Lynch's empty sad eyes haunted her to this day, as she had handed over the legal rights to her property and son to the Langley family. They had never seen her again.

Shaking it off, Leora wandered towards the kitchen, wondering what to make for dinner.

**July 22, Fifty years later…**

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear grandpa [father, Kelvyn], happy birthday to you!"

The dark haired head bowed over the cake, and he blew out the candles in several breaths. He glanced up at his family, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at his wife.

"Abby," he said wistfully. "Now can we open presents?"

"Still the same man I married," she said, rolling her eyes. "Sure, the kids are about to lose it anyways." Their four grandchildren leapt off their seats, running towards the living room where the presents awaited. Abby gestured to her son and daughter helpfully. "Elena, William, you might want to catch them before they tear everything open."

The other adults disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving the older pair alone in the kitchen. Abby encircled her husband's neck, sighing as she kissed him on the head. He glanced up at her, his grey eyes deep and wistful.

"You have that look again," she whispered.

"What look?" he said innocently.

"The one you've gotten every year since you were born, thinking about _her_."

He patted her hand and rose from the table, smiling. "Don't worry about it."

Later that evening, as the night deepened, Kelvyn sat on the front porch with his wife, watching the grandchildren chase fireflies. The youngest, Anna, suddenly came running from the direction of the woods, dropping a glass jar full of bugs.

"Grandpa," she said loudly, running into his arms. "There's a strange woman by the creek."

He shot a look at his wife, who began calling the other children to her.

"Stay here," he whispered to Abby.

She nodded, a worried expression on her face. He picked up a shovel from near the stable, making his way along the tree line towards the shore. The distant lights of the barn cast a yellow dimness across the dark water, revealing a shadowed woman standing in its midst. Her green eyes were sad and watchful, and she extended a hand towards him. The face was strangely familiar; he could've sworn he'd seen it before.

"Who are you?" he said loudly, breaking the stillness.

"Kelvyn," she said, her voice like silver bells. "Come with me."

Mindlessly he dropped the shovel and walked forward, his eyes transfixed. He reached for her hand, and suddenly he was falling forward, into the depths of the creek. He gurgled and fought the current, a burst of brightness blinding him. He swam upward towards the surface, which was shimmering bright and blue above him. He gasped for air desperately, his vision refocusing once more. To his astonishment, calm turquoise water lapped around him spreading into the distance and splashing against the golden beach of a nearby shore.

_Where am I?I must be hallucinating._

He trudged out of the water, his shoes heavy and filled with sand. He noticed an older woman nearby, who had stopped in her tracks, and was staring at him. She was dressed in a long crimson dress, her long dark grey streaked hair blowing out behind her. Her attire belonged at a renaissance faire rather than the beach. Awkwardly he straightened out his drenched clothes, and approached her cautiously.

"Excuse me ma'am. Could you tell me where I am?"

She stared at him a moment longer, studying him closely before answering. "Dol Amroth."

The wheels of his memory turned, and it suddenly hit him. He locked gazes with the strange woman, taking in the lines in her face and the light blue eyes. Deep inside, something unlocked in him, and let out a flood of emotion.

"Mother?" he asked unsurely.

"Kelvyn?"

As he nodded, she reached for him troubledly with her withered hands. He gripped her firmly, being careful not to hurt her. "I don't believe it."

She stepped back, tracing his face with her fingers. "Come. Your father and sisters are in the house."

He looped his elbow through hers, and helped her walk along the sand, their sights fixed on the high white walls of Dol Amroth ahead.

The end.

.-.-.-.

**A/N: **Yes this really is the end. I can hardly believe that five years later, this is DONE! I thank all of my readers. I am going to keep writing fan fiction, especially Lord of the Rings stories involving Boromir and Faramir. I have a huge story planned that I have been working on for several years. Let's just say the notes on that one are 100+ pages…

If you have any questions, I'll update with answers on this page at the end.

**S/N: **T o clarify a few things. The box that Kelvyn opened is the same one Anna Stewart (Leora Langley's mother) brought Eva in chapter sixteen. The journal and bracelet are Eva's, and were left for her son when she momentarily traveled home (Elena forced her to give up the baby). Kelvyn grew up at Creek Halls, raised by the Langleys. He married his foster sister Abby (the baby in chapter sixteen), and they had two children named Elena and William. His son William eventually married Mercy Hollinger (great-granddaughter of Elena's son Samuel), healing the rift between the families. I didn't include this in the ending, as I didn't feel it was necessary.

Boromir died a year after his son came back, living to the ripe old age of 105. :D He and Eva had a second daughter named Fíriel several years after Elora and Kelvyn were born. Eva died four years after Boromir.


End file.
